CHARLES  H.CAFFIN 


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AMERICAN   MASTERS  OF  SCULPTURE 


By  the  same  author : 

AMERICAN  MASTERS  OF  PAINTING 
PHOTOGRAPHY  AS  A  FINE  ART 


1  HE    SHERMAN    MONUMENT 
By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens 


AMERICAN  MASTERS  OF 
SCULPTURE 

BEING 

BRIEF  APPRECIATIONS  OF  SOME  AMERICAN 

SCULPTORS  AND   OF  SOME   PHASES 

OF  SCULPTURE  IN  AMERICA 


BY 
CHARLES   H.   CAFFIN 

Author  of  "American  Masters  of  Painting" 


Garden  City       New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1913 


Copyrieht,  1903,  by 
Doubledar,  Pace  &  Corapanr 


Library 

MB 


INTRODUCTION 

'T^HE  year  1876,  the  date  of  the  Centennial 
"■■  Exhibition,  is  a  landmark  in  the  progress 
of  American  sculpture  as  it  is  in  that  of  American 
painting.  Not  to  be  fixed  too  definitely,  and 
yet  serving  approximately  as  a  starting-point 
of  new  conditions  which  have  transformed  what 
had  been  a  sporadic  and  largely  exotic  product 
into  a  lusty,  homogeneous  and  thoroughly  accli- 
matised growth.  I  speak  of  the  gradual  improve- 
ment and  spread  of  taste  in  the  commimity; 
the  steady  trend  of  students  to  Paris  and  the 
habit  of  American  sculptors  to  make  their  own 
country  the  scene  and  inspiration  of  their  labours. 
The  earlier  tendency  had  been  toward  Italy; 
to  Rome  and  Florence,  especially,  where  American 
colonies  existed.  Here  the  student  adopted  the 
Canova  tradition  of  sweetened  classicism,  or  the 
infusion  of  naturalism  into  the  classic  vein, 
represented  in  the  work  of  a  few  romanticists; 
and,  having  learned  his  craft,  remained  in  Italy 
to  practise  it.  His  sources  of  instruction  had  not 
been  of  the  best  and  he  worked  in  an  atmosphere 
tainted    with   artistic   and    political   decadence. 

V 


vi  INTRODUCTION 

It  is  not  surprising  that  much  of  the  sculpttire 
of  this  period,  though  considerably  admired  in 
its  day,  strikes  us  now  as  coldly  and  pedantically 
null,  xinconvincing  and  grandiloquent  or,  at  best, 
innocuously  sentimental.  Only  once  in  a  while 
is  there  a  statue  of  such  moment  as  "The  Greek 
Slave,"  by  Hiram  Powers,  which  very  closely 
follows  and  attains  to  the  purity  of  Canova's 
style.  The  more  memorable  works  of  this  period 
came  chiefly  from  those  sculptors  who,  although 
living  abroad,  kept  in  touch  with  home.  Of  these 
the  most  distinguished  was  William  Henry 
Rinehart ;  yet  his  classical  pieces  will  not  compare 
in  force  and  dignity  with  his  sitting  statue  of 
Chief  Justice  Taney  at  Annapolis,  reproduced  in 
Mount  Vernon  Square,  Baltimore,  which  still 
remains  one  of  the  most  impressive  monuments 
in  this  coimtry,  In  like  manner  Thomas  Craw- 
ford's best  works  were  the  bronze  doors  for 
the  Capitol,  illustrating  events  in  the  Revolution, 
the  colossal "  Liberty"  which  crowns  the  dome  and 
an  equestrian  statue  of  Washington  at  Richmond. 
Equally  it  was  in  another  equestrian  statue  of 
Washington,  the  one  which  stands  in  the  Boston 
Public  Gardens,  that  Thomas  Ball  reached  his 
best  achievement.  But  it  is  inferior  in  ease  and 
dignity  to  the  same  subject  executed  by  Henry 
Kirke  Brown,  whose  equestrian  statue  of  Greneral 


INTRODUCTION  vii 

Scott  at  Washington  also  stands  out  conspicuously 
among  the  best  we  have.  Brown,  too,  studied 
in  Italy,  but  with  the  conviction  that  Americans 
shotild  occupy  themselves  upon  American  subjects 
returned  home  and  established  his  studio  in 
New  York.  It  would  be  going  too  far  to  attribute 
the  excellence  of  these  two  statues  to  the  fact 
of  their  having  been  conceived  and  executed  in 
the  American  environment,  the  more  so  as  Brown's 
work  was  uneven  in  quality  and  did  not  in  other 
subjects  reach  the  dignity  of  these.  Yet  his 
deviation  from  the  custom  of  the  time  was  the 
outcome  of  a  very  individual  force  of  character, 
and  the  influence  of  the  latter  upon  his  work 
may  very  well  have  been  reenforced  by  the 
environment.  At  any  rate,  his  action  was  con- 
sidered notable  in  his  own  day  and  has  always 
been  remembered  since,  and  imdoubtedly  marks 
the  beginning  of  the  reaction  against  self- 
expatriation. 

It  will  not,  however,  escape  the  thoughtful 
student  of  this  period  how  natural  such  self- 
expatriation  was.  A  stout  heart,  indeed,  was 
needed  to  bear  up  against  the  dearth  of  artistic 
incentive  at  home.  Necessarily  the  time  was 
devoted  mainly  to  material  expansion  and  building 
up,  especially  calling  for  the  heroic  qiialities  of 
brain  and  muscle,  and  accompanied  inevitably 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

by  a  spirit  of  materialism.  It  was  not  until  the 
conscience  and  soul  of  the  nation  had  been  re- 
awakened by  a  great  moral  question  and  chastened 
by  the  stem  discipline  of  a  tremendous  struggle 
that  it  began  to  return  to  the  higher  enthusiasms 
of  its  youth.  Hero-worship  was  reborn — or, 
rather,  took  a  nobler,  more  spiritualised  form — 
for  a  nation  will  always  have  its  heroes.  But  now, 
instead  of  the  hero  of  the  market  or  the  stump, 
whose  service  to  the  public  is  subordinate  to  self- 
aggrandisement,  there  had  sprung  up  in  every 
State — indeed,  from  every  village  and  most  fire- 
sides— ^heroes  of  sacrifice.  The  hero-worship  which 
ensued  was  bound  up  with  a  fuller,  deeper  sense 
of  national  life,  eager  to  express  itself.  It  found 
vent  in  the  spoken  and  written  word,  it  sought 
to  free  itself  in  visible,  tangible  expression.  As 
the  birth  of  the  Republic  had  been  identified  with 
the  erection  of  noble  buildings,  so  the  rebirth  of 
national  conscience  and  soul  found  in  a  revived 
architecture  the  means  of  expressing  its  national 
state  and  civic  pride,  and  in  sculpture  its  worship 
of  heroes.  And  it  is  a  remarkable  coincidence 
that  the  beginning  of  this  esthetic  demand  fitted 
in  with  the  appearance  in  America  of  a  band  of 
trained  artists,  returning  from  their  studies 
abroad.  The  Centennial  Exhibition  opened  the 
eyes  of  the  country  to  the  wonders  of  foreign  art. 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

and  here  were  Americans  on  the  spot  trained  in 
those  foreign  schools. 

With  only  a  few  exceptions  all  our  sculptors 
of  the  present  generation  have  acqtiired  their 
training,  either  wholly  or  in  part,  in  Paris;  that 
is  to  say,  in  the  best  school  in  the  world.  For 
France,  ever  since  the  Middle  Ages,  has  never  been 
without  a  succession  of  great  sculptors.  When 
the  Gothic  spirit  had  spent  itself,  that  of  the  late 
Italian  Renaissance  was  imported;  and  the  art, 
continually  adjusting  itself  to  the  changing 
conditions  of  national  life,  has  been  held  in 
iminterrupted  honour  to  the  present  time.  It 
is  in  this  branch  of  the  fine  arts  that  the  French 
genius  has  foimd  its  most  individual  expression. 
Corresponding  with  the  maintenance  of  fine 
traditions  is  the  excellence  of  the  system  of 
teaching.  The  Institute  and  the  Ecole  des  Beaux 
Arts  perpetuate  a  standard,  characterised  by 
technical  perfection  and  elegance  of  style,  while 
the  tendency  to  academic  narrowness  is  offset  by 
the  influence  of  independent  sctdptors ;  for  there  is 
not  a  thought-wave  in  modem  art  that  does  not 
emanate  from  or  finally  reach  Paris.  It  is  the 
world's  clearing-house  of  artistic  currency. 

The  attractions  of  a  city  so  rich  in  artistic 
resources,  so  generous  to  artists,  have  allured 
many  to  extend  their  sojotim  there  beyond  the 


X  INTRODUCTION 

years  of  studentship,  and  Paris  has  been  in  these 
days,  only  in  a  still  greater  degree,  what  Florence 
and  Rome  were  half  a  century  ago — a  resort  for 
self-expatriated  Americans.  But,  with  a  few 
exceptions,  the  sculptors  have  escaped  this 
tendency;  not  so  much  perhaps  from  inclination 
as  from  circumstances.  For  commissions  have 
been  plentiful  in  America,  and  the  need  of  being 
on  the  spot  in  order  to  secure  them  drew  the 
sculptors  home — on  the  whole  to  the  betterment 
of  their  art.  For  it  is  the  same  with  Paris,  a 
university  of  the  arts,  as  with  Harvard,  Yale  or 
any  other  university  of  letters  and  science.  The 
atmosphere  is  most  congenial  to  the  quick  develop- 
ment of  student  years ;  but,  for  the  further,  more 
gradual  development  that  grows  out  of  the  stuff 
which  a  man  has  in  him,  not  to  be  compared  to 
the  rough-and-tumble  contact  with  the  larger 
world. 

For  there  are  some  elements  of  technique 
which  can  be  imparted;  others,  however,  are  of 
personal  growth.  It  is  a  distinction  largely  of 
manners  and  feeling.  Manners  can  be  imparted 
and  acquired;  feeling,  at  best,  mainly  guided. 
Its  finer  manifestations  are  the  outcome  of  self- 
development.  Thus  in  the  matter  of  modelling, 
in  which  the  Parisian  student  usually  excels, 
the  hand  can  be  trained  to  express  with  exquisite 


INTRODUCTION  xi 

precision  and  delicacy  the  surface  of  flesh  and 
fabric,  the  form  and  textiire  of  each;  and  the 
feeling  for  the  esthetic  charm  of  these  things 
can  be  aroused  and  refined.  So,  too,  can  that 
larger  feeling  for  the  construction  of  the  form  and 
the  organic  relation  of  its  parts,  up  to  the  point 
at  least  of  securing  accttracy  and  truth  to  nature. 
But  the  still  larger  feeling,  which  finds  in  the 
structure  and  organic  arrangement  an  expression 
of  emotion  and  manifests  itself  most  amply  in 
composition,  cannot  be  taught.  To  certain 
general  principles  the  student  may  be  directed, 
just  as  any  school  of  manners  may  lay  down 
rules  of  conduct,  which  wiU  be  admirable  in 
securing  propriety  and  decorum.  So  far  can 
feeling  be  instilled  and  regulated;  but  the  freer, 
deeper,  really  significant  feeling  has  its  origin  in 
character,  in  the  moral  and  mental  ego  of  the 
individual,  to  be  further  deepened  and  broadened 
by  the  experiences  of  life.  In  sculpture  this 
significant  feeling  manifests  itself  appropriately 
in  the  large  field  of  the  general  design;  in  the 
weight,  stability  and  harmonious  tmity  of  the 
mass,  which  make  the  composition  monumental; 
and  in  the  manifestation  of  character  and  senti- 
ment, sustained  through  every  part  of  the  whole, 
which  renders  the  composition  expressional. 
For  convenience  one  separates  the  disposition  of 


xfi  INTRODUCTION 

the  form  from  the  expression,  but  really  they 
are  one  and  the  same  act,  the  sculptor  composing 
his  plastic  material  as  the  musician  does  his 
chords  and  harmonies,  to  give  expression  to  the 
character  or  sentiment  that  supplies  the  theme 
of  his  work. 

Now,  given  this  natural  gift,  the  reenforcement 
of  it  must  come  from  the  theme  itself,  from  the 
degree  to  which  it  has  laid  hold  of  and  possessed 
the  sciilptor's  imagination.  And  it  is  for  this 
reason  that,  when  he  is  executing  American 
themes,  the  true  environment  for  him  is  America. 
It  ought  to  give  him  direct  incentive,  and,  even 
if  it  does  not,  should  at  least  save  him  from  being 
enticed  into  a  more  specious  attitude  of  mind. 
For  I  think  one  may  note  traces  of  this  speciousness 
in  the  sculpture  of  Americans  working  in  Paris; 
a  parti  pris  for  the  smaller  elegancies  of  design 
as  opposed  to  the  salient  and  the  large. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  working  upon  American 
themes  in  the  American  environment  can  draw 
nothing  out  of  the  artist  that  is  not  in  him ;  and 
this  higher  mastery  over  form  and  composition, 
being  a  gift  of  the  gods,  is  necessarily  rare. 
Perhaps  only  in  a  few  American  sculptors,  as 
only  rarely  in  other  countries,  will  you  discover 
it ;  while  skill  in  modelling,  elegance  of  design  and 
a  generally  sensitive  taste  will  be  foimd  more 


•  •• 


INTRODUCTION  ida 

diffused  through  American  sculpture  than  through 
that  of  any  other  country  except  France.  The 
reason,  unquestionably,  is  the  peculiar  aptitude 
of  the  American  to  impressions  and  his  study  in 
the  best  of  modem  schools. 


PUBLISHERS'   NOTE 

Thanks  are  due  to  the  Sculptors,  to  the  Century 
Company  and  to  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  whose 
assistance  has  made  possible  the  inclusion  of  the 
illustrations  in  this  edition. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction 
I.  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens 
II.  George  Grey  Barnard 

III.  John  Quincy  Adams  Ward 

IV.  Daniel  Chester  French 
V.  Frederick  Macmonnies 

VI.   Paul  Weyland  Bartlett 
VII.   Herbert  Adams 
VIII.  Charles  Henry  Niehaus 
IX.    Olin  Levi  Warner    . 
X.   Solon  Hannibal  Borglum 
XI.   Victor  David  Brenner 
XII.   The  Decorative  Motive 
XIII.  The  Ideal  Motive 
Indbx 


PAGE 

V 

I 

19 

37 
53 
71 
87 
97 
117 
129 

147 
163 

173 
209 

233 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE      SHERMAN 
Saint-Gaudens 


MONUMENT.     By 


Augustus 
Frontispiece 

FACING  FACE 

GRIEF.     By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens      ...      8 
A  Memorial  in  Rock  Creek  Cemetery,  Washington, 
D.  C. 


THE    LINCOLN 
Gaudens 


STATUE.     By    Augustus    Saint- 


RELIEF  PORTRAIT  OF  ROBERT  LOUIS  STEVEN- 
SON.    By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens     . 

PAN.     By  George  Grey  Barnard 

THE  HEWER.     By  George  Grey  Barnard      . 

TWO  FRIENDS.     By  George  Grey  Barnard    . 
A  Memorial  Monument. 


i6 
28 
29 
34 


THE  GREELEY  STATUE.     By  John  Quincy  Adams 
Ward 46 

THE  BEECHER  STATUE.     By  John  Quincy  Adams 

Ward 47 

DEATH      AND     THE      SCULPTOR.     By     Daniel 

Chester  French 60 

The   Milmore   Monument  in  Forest  Hills  Cemetery 
near  Boston. 

DETAIL  OF  THE  CLARK  MONUMENT.  By 

Daniel  Chester  French 61 

Forest  Hills  Cemetery. 

ALMA   MATER.     By   Daniel  Chester  French       .    68 

Columbia  University. 

DIANA.     By  Frederick  Macmonnibs        .        .        .76 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS— C.iift»«#i/ 

FACING  PAGE 

BACCHANTE.  By  Frederick  Macmonnies  .  .  17 
MICHELANGELO.     By  Paul  Weyland  Bartlett  .       92 

Library  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 
MADONNA.     By  Herbert  Adams     ....     104 
Tympanum   for  St.  Bartholomew's  Church,   New 
York. 
PORTRAIT-BUST.     By  Herbert  Adams  .         .         .105 
BUST    OF   THE    ARTIST'S   WIFE.     By  Herbert 

Adams no 

THE  DRILLER.     By  Charles  Henry  Niehaus       .     122 
From   the    Drake    Monument,    Titusville,    Penn- 
sylvania. 
THE  HAHNEMANN  STATUE.     By  Charles  Henry 

Niehaus 123 

From  the  Hahnemann  Memorial,  Washington,  D.  C. 
BUST    OF    DANIEL    COTTIER.      By    Olin    Levi 

Warner .         .     136 

CUPID  AND  PSYCHE.  By  Olin  Levi  Warner  .  137 
DIANA.  By  Olin  Levi  Warner  ....  144 
COWBOY     MOUNTING.       By    Solon     Hannibal 

Borglum 15a 

LOST  IN  A  BLIZZARD.    (Marble.)    By  Solon  Han- 
nibal Borglum 153 

TAMED.     By  Solon  Hannibal  Borglum  .  .     160 

PORTRAIT  OF  C.  P.  HUNTINGTON     By  Victor 

David  Brenner .     168 

RECUMBENT  FIGURE.     By  J.  Massey  Rhind       .     192 
From  the  Tomb  of  Father  Brown  in  the  Church  of 
Saint  Mary-the- Virgin,  New  York. 
PUMA.     By  a.  Phimister  Proctor   . 

From  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn. 
CHARIOT  RACE.  By  F.  G.  R.  Roth  .  .  .302 
BUST  OF  A  CHILD.  By  Birtley  Canfield  .  .  214 
THE  STONE  AGE.     By  John  J.  Boyle    .         .         .     ais 


193 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS 

TF  we  value  the  gift  of  imagination  in  an  artist 
over  that  of  technique  it  is  not  because 
we  undervalue  the  latter.  Without  technique 
a  work  of  art  is  not  to  be  thought  of;  it  is  as 
essentially  the  visible  expression  of  the  inward 
grace  as  the  human  form  is  the  casket  of  the 
human  spirit.  But  the  quality  in  man  or  woman 
of  purest  dehght  and  most  enduring  significance 
is  less  the  body  and  its  acts  than  the  thought 
that  animates  them.  And  is  it  not  so  with  a 
work  of  art? 

It  is  as  an  artist  of  superior  imagination  that 
we  regard  Saint-Gaudens ;  as  one  who  can  give  to 
the  facts  of  our  knowledge  a  fresh  form  and  sig- 
nificance, attracting  us  toward  the  idea  contained 
within  the  actual,  the  idealisation  of  character 
or  of  sentiment.  And  such  imagination  in  an 
artist  must  have  a  twofold  working.  It  fills  him 
with  a  fine  idea  and  it  discovers  to  his  hand  a 
fine  manner  of  embodying  it;  it  penetrates 
his  technique. 

3 


4  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

To  appreciate  fully  a  sculptor's  worthiness  in 
this  respect  one  should  realise  the  peculiar  rela- 
tion in  which  he  is  placed  with  regard  to  facts. 
While  the  painter  has  a  wide  range  of  resources 
for  creating  an  illusion  the  sculptor  is  limited  to 
a  comparatively  strict  and  naive  realism.  Even 
if  he  introduces  an  ideal  figure,  such  as  that  of 
an  angel,  he  is  compelled  to  give  it  the  clear-cut 
contours,  substance  and  actuality  of  a  distinctly 
visible  and  tangible  form.  His  only  means  of 
idealising  are  the  abstract  beauty  of  line  and 
form,  the  character  of  expression  in  face  and 
gesture  and  the  general  feeling  of  nobility  and 
sweetness  that  he  can  impart  to  his  work  through 
the  degree  to  which  the  thought  that  is  in 
him  inspires  his  hand.  He  may,  indeed,  attempt 
a  more  obvious  trick  of  idealising,  as  when 
Greenough  represented  Washington  in  the  r61e  of 
Olympian  Zeus  by  the  device  of  baring  the  body 
and  placing  a  mimic  thimderbolt  in  the  hand. 
But  to  modem  taste,  at  any  rate,  such  a  pro- 
cedure seems  ridiculous.  The  truth  is,  that  the 
highest  form  of  imagination — indeed,  the  only 
tolerable  one  to  the  modem  mind — is  that  which 
illumines  the  facts  of  our  common  knowledge  and 
expression ;  in  a  word,  which  bases  itself  on  facts. 

But  this  demands  of  the  sculptor  a  very  high 
degree  of  creative  imagination,  in  all  probability 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS  5 

a  proportionately  higher  one  than  the  painter's; 
for  if  the  latter  is  confronted,  for  example,  with 
a  subject  of  ill-made  coat  and  trousers,  he  can  by 
merging  the  costume  in  atmosphere  and  by  toning 
it  with  the  backgroimd  so  gloss  over  its  inartistic 
appearance  as  to  produce  a  handsome  ensemble. 
But,  compared  with  the  sculptor's  problems,  this 
is  an  evasion  of  the  difficulty.  To  repeat,  the 
sculptor  is  limited  in  his  presentment  to  the  actual 
facts.  But,  though  it  may  seem  to  be  a  paradox, 
it  is  almost  a  truism  in  art,  that  the  limitations 
of  a  medium  are  its  most  characteristic  sources 
of  power — at  least,  when  knowingly  and  coura- 
geously admitted.  And,  I  believe,  it  can  scarcely 
be  doubted  that  the  quality  in  Saint-Gaudens's 
imagination  which  has  most  conduced  to  his  great- 
ness as  an  artist  is  this :  it  is  kindled  by  contem- 
plation of  the  facts,  and  it  finds  in  the  facts  its 
keenest  and  truest  impulse. 

Moreover,  it  has  been  his  good  fortune  to  be 
confronted  with  large  and  impressive  facts.  The 
panorama  of  American  civilization,  and  especially 
one  episode  of  tremendous  import — the  Civil 
War — has  spread  itself  behind  his  work;  and  the 
latter,  as  in  the  case  of  one  of  his  own  reliefs, 
has  grown  out  of  and  in  harmony  with  the 
background.  Other  sculptors,  also,  have  had 
the  same  high  incentive,  but  many  have  failed  to 


6  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

respond  to  it.  Saint-Gaudens  has  had  the  force 
of  imagination  which  could  not  only  grasp  the 
magnitude  of  his  opportunity  but  interpret  its 
impressiveness. 

The  conditions  in  America  have  demanded  that 
his  work  should  be  largely  of  a  memorial  character 
— monuments  to  those  that  are  honoured  in  public 
or  mourned  in  private,  and  in  both  directions 
his  achievements  have  placed  him  in  the  foremost 
ranks  of  modem  sculptors.  This  was  demon- 
strated at  the  Paris  Exposition  of  1900,  where 
he  was  represented  among  other  works  by  the 
statue  of  General  Sherman  and  the  "Shaw 
Memorial."  A  comparison  of  these,  respect- 
ively with  Dubois's  "Joan  of  Arc"  and  with 
Bartholom^'s  "Monument  to  the  Dead,"  helped 
one  to  divine  the  special  quaUties  of  Saint- 
Gaudens's  style. 

He  himself  had  a  Paris  training.  Son  of  a 
French  father  and  an  Irish  mother,  brought  to 
this  country  when  a  child,  he  displayed  early  an 
aptitude  for  art,  and  in  course  of  time  went 
through  the  usual  regimen  of  a  student  in  Paris. 
Thus  he  came  under  the  influence  of  the  best 
academic  traditions  and  of  the  modem  natural- 
istic movement,  and  imbibed  both  to  the  degree 
that  his  own  temperament  and  the  conditions  of 
his  inspiration  demanded. 


AUGUSTUS   SAINT-GAUDENS  7 

So  in  the  direction  of  tradition — that  is  to  say, 
of  more  or  less  consecutive  descent  from  an  original 
classic  type — we  may  compare  his  "General 
Sherman"  with  Dubois's  "Joan  of  Arc";  both 
equestrian  statues,  montimental  in  design,  full  of 
decorative  dignity  yet  so  different  in  character. 
The  latter,  noble  in  every  particular,  has  a  choice 
propriety  of  feeling  that  separates  it  by  an  ocean 
of  motive  from  the  freer  spirit  of  the  other.  It 
is  at  once  mannered,  more  consciously  correct 
and  studiously  discreet  and  has  an  air  of  hauteur 
and  aloofness,  as  becomes  its  aristocratic  descent 
in  the  direct  line  from  Verrocchio's  "Colleoni." 
The  "Sherman,"  however,  is  of  only  collateral 
descent,  modified  by  a  larger  environment  and  a 
fresher  inspiration.  The  typal  form  has  yielded 
to  the  individual,  abstract  dignity  to  the  force  of 
character,  the  fundamental  suggestion  to  that  of 
vivid,  immediate  actuality. 

In  its  naturalistic  tendency  and  expression  of 
profound  emotion  the  "Monument  to  the  Dead," 
by  Bartholom^,  is  at  one  with  Saint-Gaudens's 
work;  but  I  found  myself  comparing  it  with  the 
latter's  figure  of  "Grief"  in  the  Rock  Creek 
Cemetery,  near  Washington.  Then  its  degree  of 
naturalism  is  found  to  be  less.  It  shows  some 
influence  of  the  classic  tradition  in  the  use  of  nude 
figures  and  in  their  elaborate  disposition  along 


8  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  background  of  masonry ;  while  the  single  figure 
by  Saint-Gaudens  is  draped  and  presented  with 
an  uhaffectedness  of  arrangement  and  with  an 
intimacy  of  appeal  that  is  at  the  same  time  more 
naturalistic  and  more  poignant. 

So  may  we  not  deduce  from  these  comparisons 
one  quality  inherent  in  Saint-Gaudens:  that  of 
daring  to  be  free  from  conventional  restraint,  or 
rather  the  daring  to  adapt,  with  a  freedom  only 
limited  by  his  sense  of  artistic  fitness,  the  academic 
traditions  which  his  early  life  experienced?  For 
the  means  by  which  he  has  wrought  out  his  free- 
dom are  in  no  sense  revolutionary.  He  does  not, 
for  example,  go  as  far  as  Rodin  in  the  latter's 
disregard  of  symmetry  in  composition.  His  own 
have  always  a  monumental  character,  studied  for 
their  effect  in  the  mass,  as  seen  from  various  points 
of  view.  Moreover,  they  are  always  extremely 
reserved:  as  far  as  possible  removed  from  the 
floridness  indulged  in  by  many  students  of  the 
academic  traditions.  A  similar  reserve  con- 
trols his  naturalistic  tendencies.  Evidently  it  is 
not  naturalism  of  itself  which  attracts  him; 
indeed,  all  his  leaning  is  primarily  toward  the 
sculpturesque  side  of  sculpture,  as  a  self-contained 
mass,  proportionately  impressive,  equable  in 
outline,  decorative  and  structural  in  ensemble. 
These  principles  of  technique  are  at  the  service  of 


GRIEF 
By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens 

A    Memorial    in    Rock    Creek    Cemetery.   W'ashingtn:,.    I).    C. 


THE    LINCOLN    STATUK 
Bv  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS  9 

• — perhaps  it  wotild  be  truer  to  say  that  they  have 
been  adapted  to — an  imagination,  which  rever- 
ences the  character  in  man  and  can  picttire  and 
suggest  the  individual  in  relation  to  the  larger 
issues  of  his  time;  with  a  capacity  of  emotional 
expression  that  has  the  added  poignancy  of 
compression.  It  has  been,  indeed,  continually 
reenforced  by  the  grandeur  of  the  themes  that 
have  confronted  him,  and  the  result  upon  his 
technique  is  a  gravity  of  distinction  which  repre- 
sents the  finest  kind  of  style.  In  that  smaller 
kind  of  style  which  is  limited  to  the  acttial  tech- 
nique of  modelling  it  wotdd  be  possible  to  mention 
sculptors  who  far  excel  Saint-Gaudens ;  but  in 
those  qualities  of  broader  and  deeper  reference 
wherein  brain  and  sensibility  cooperate  with  hand 
for  high  creative  and  poetic  ends  I  doubt  if  he 
has  any  superior  among  modern  artists. 

Let  us  trace  the  gift  of  idealising  as  it  appears 
in  several  of  his  works,  selected  because  they 
represent  a  descending  scale  from  the  ptirely  ideal 
to  the  idealised  fact.  And  first  the  statue  of 
"Grief"  in  the  Rock  Creek  Cemetery.  I  made 
the  pilgrimage  from  Washington  one  simny 
autumn  afternoon  with  a  companion.  The  gate- 
keeper directing  us,  we  threaded  our  way  along 
the  labyrinth  of  paths,  among  the  chaos  of 
conflicting  mommients,  so  many  of  which  testify 


10  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

to  impotence  of  taste.  Finally  a  glance  behind 
a  hedge  of  cypress — ^we  are  indeed  on  holy  ground ! 
Within  the  little  enclosure  of  solemn  greenery  a 
bench,  marble  and  of  Greek  design,  invites  to  sit ; 
the  world  is  all  outside,  and  here  before  us, 
raised  upon  a  slight  pedestal,  enough  to  lift  it 
above  the  level,  but  not  too  high  for  close  and 
intimate  communion,  is  the  Presence:  a  woman's 
seated  figure,  wrapped  about  in  coarse  drapery 
that  shrouds  her  head  and  falls  in  long,  loose, 
heavy  folds  at  her  feet.  We  have  heard  the  story : 
That  a  husband,  robbed  of  his  wife  with  shock- 
ing suddenness,  called  upon  the  sculptor  to  express 
in  plastic  shape  the  void  in  his  life,  enjoining  him 
to  ignore  all  symbols  of  hope  and  to  give  utterance 
only  to  the  consuming  hopelessness  of  loss.  And 
here  before  us — in  the  isolation  of  the  figure,  in  the 
uncompromising  sternness  of  the  drapery,  in  the 
majestic  agony  of  the  face,  the  eyelids  lowered  in 
pain,  the  lips  full  and  set  in  the  effort  of  endurance 
and  also  in  a  protest  as  proud  as  it  is  despairing — 
there  is  expressed  a  universality  of  grief  that 
simis  up  the  sorrow  of  the  modem  world,  as  well 
as  the  eternal  question  of  the  why  and  to  what 
end.  Under  the  spell  of  it  a  wife  and  husband 
sit  on  into  the  golden  afternoon,  chastened,  puri- 
fied, elevated,  drawn  closer  to  each  other  by  the 
realisation  of  the  mystery  of  grief,  and  with  a 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS  ii 

renewed  sense  of  the  sanctity  of  happiness  ere  the 
shadow  falls.  Here  indeed  is  an  idealisation, 
complete  and  absolute ;  no  helping  out  with  wings 
and  symbols,  but  the  rendering  of  a  simple,  natural 
fact — a  woman  in  grief ;  yet  with  such  deep  and 
embracing  comprehension  that  the  individual  is 
magnified  into  a  type.  The  emotional  appeal  is 
universal. 

In  this  statue  the  sculptor  could  give  free  rein 
to  his  imagination.  Observe  how  in  the  "  Shaw 
Memorial"  he  meets  the  problem  of  an  actual  fact 
of  history ;  the  youthful  leader  riding  forth  to  war 
with  his  marching  regiment  of  Negroes.  What  a 
boimdless  zest  he  displays  for  the  realism  of  the 
scene !  He  portrays  the  humble  soldiers  with 
varying  characteristics  of  pathetic  devotion, 
and  from  the  halting  uniformity  of  their  move- 
ment, even  from  the  tmcouthness  of  their  ill- 
fitting  tmiforms,  from  such  details  as  the  water- 
bottles  and  rifles,  secures  an  impressiveness  of 
decorative  composition,  distinguished  by  virile 
contrasts  and  repetitions  of  line  and  by  vigorous 
handsomeness  of  light  and  shade.  Mingled  with 
our  enjoyment  of  these  qualities  is  the  emotion 
aroused  by  the  intent  and  steadfast  onward  move- 
ment of  the  troops,  whose  doglike  trustfulness 
is  contrasted  with  the  serene  elevation  of  their 
white  leader. 


12  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

Behind  this  group  looms  up  the  tremendous 
issues  of  the  war ;  they  were  present  to  the  imagi- 
nation of  the  sculptor  and  he  has  suggested  them 
to  ours.  Hence  the  work  is  big  with  fatefulness, 
with  a  reference  reaching  beyond  the  fate  of  the 
personages  represented  to  the  fate  of  a  nation 
trembling  in  the  balance.  Ah !  it  is  a  great  gift, 
this  power  to  touch  upon  the  fundamental,  the 
essentially  and  generically  vital  aspect  of  a 
matter,  and  by  means  so  simple  and  of  common 
knowledge.  As  he  worked  upon  the  memorial 
it  woidd  seem  as  if  Saint-Gaudens  distrusted 
somewhat  his  possession  of  this  faculty,  for  to 
increase  the  idealisation  he  has  introduced  a 
figure  of  Victory  floating  above  the  head  of  the 
leader.  It  was  not  necessary  and  is  scarcely  in 
accord  with  the  rest  of  the  composition,  intro- 
ducing into  the  energy  and  concentration  of  the 
whole  a  somewhat  quavering  note.  Yet,  to 
judge  by  my  own  experience,  the  sense  of  jar 
yields  to  indifference;  one  loses  consciousness  of 
this  figure  in  the  grandeur  and  elevation  of  the 
whole.  But,  if  this  is  the  experience  also  of 
others,  it  tends  to  prove  how  tmnecessary  was 
its  introduction ;  and,  further,  one  is  inclined  to 
resent  it  as  partaking  of  the  obviousness  which 
would  occur  to  a  smaller  sculptor. 

A  similar  attempt  to  reenf orce  the  ideal  sugges- 


AUGUSTUS   SAINT-GAUDENS  13 

tion  contained  in  the  realistic  parts  of  the  group 
with  the  direct  introduction  of  a  symbolic  figure 
reappears  in  the  equestrian  statue  of  General 
Sherman.  But  the  figure  in  this  case  is  more 
intrinsically  a  part  of  the  general  design  in  perfect 
harmony  of  character  and  feeling,  and  the  group 
as  it  stands,  while  almost  the  latest,  is  probably 
the  most  completely  grand  example  of  Saint- 
Gaudens's  art.  Sherman  leans  a  little  forward  in 
the  saddle  with  a  handling  of  the  reins  that 
keeps  in  control  the  impetuosity  of  his  big-boned, 
powerful  charger,  an  action  of  the  hands  very 
characteristic  of  an  accompUshed  horseman.  His 
head  is  bare  and  his  military  cloak  floats  from  his 
back  in  ample  folds.  Victory  moves  ahead  of  his 
left  stirrup,  palm  branch  in  hand,  her  drapery 
buoyed  up  with  air;  the  horse's  tail  streams 
behind;  throughout  the  whole  composition  is  a 
single  impulse  of  irresistible  advance.  From 
every  point  of  view  the  mass  is  compact  with  dig- 
nity, ornamental  in  line  and  bulk,  alive  with  ele- 
vated and  inspiring  energy.  At  closer  range  one 
may  discover  the  big  simplicity  and  pregnant 
generalisation  of  the  modelling,  also  the  meaning- 
fulness  of  the  characterisation.  The  horse  in 
build  and  gait  is  a  serviceable  beast,  bred  for 
courage  and  endurance;  the  rider,  a  man  of  iron 
purpose,  indomitable  in  face  and  carriage;  while 


14  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

the  woman's  figure  in  the  grand  spirit  of  the 
flowing  lines  and  in  the  lofty  sadness  of  her  mien 
touches  a  chord  of  triimiph  and  pathos,  of  the 
glory  and  the  tragedy  of  victory. 

I  compared  this  statue  with  Dubois's  "Joan  of 
Arc,"  and  found  it  so  much  less  mannered,  so  far 
more  vital  in  the  immediateness  of  its  import; 
or,  shall  we  state  it  in  this  way:  less  consciously 
a  work  of  art,  more  spontaneously  the  expression 
of  an  overpowering  sentiment.  This,  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  contains  the  gist  of  Saint-Gaudens's  art. 
While  traditional  in  its  origin,  it  is  a  living  art, 
rooted  in  the  realities  of  its  environment,  modified 
in  its  growth — ^that  is  to  say,  in  its  technique — ^by 
the  necessity  of  responding  to  its  conditions. 

But  how  does  Saint-Gaudens  fare  when  he  con- 
fines himself  to  a  factual  representation  of  his 
subject?  Let  his  statue  of  Lincoln  at  Chicago 
testify.  No  grace  of  line  or  grandeur  of  mass; 
only  a  chair  behind  the  standing  figure  to  eke  out 
the  stringiness  of  the  legs  and  in  a  measure  to 
build  up  the  composition.  Nor  could  the  sculptor 
snatch  an  easy  triumph  through  any  heroic  ren- 
dering of  the  figure,  spare  and  elongated,  in 
clothes  uncompromisingly  ordinary.  But  the 
man  as  he  was,  and  just  because  he  chanced  to  be 
the  man  he  was,  was  great,  and  in  the  fearless 
acceptance  of  this  fact  the  scidptor  has  seized 


AUGUSTUS   SAINT-GAUDENS  15 

his  opportunity.  The  statue  is  planted  firmly  on 
the  right  foot — not  every  statue  really  stands 
upon  its  feet — ^the  right  arm  held  behind  the  back 
— ^these  are  the  characteristic  gestures  of  stability, 
tenacity  and  reflection;  while  the  advance  of  the 
left  leg  and  the  grip  of  the  left  hand  upon  the  lapel 
of  the  coat  bespeak  the  man  of  action.  With  such 
completeness  are  these  complex  qualities  sug- 
gested and  then  crowned  with  the  solemn  dignity 
of  the  declined  head,  so  aloof  in  impenetrable 
meditation,  that  the  homely  figure  has  a  grandeur 
and  a  power  of  appeal  which  are  irresistible. 
True,  our  imagination,  reenforced  by  knowledge, 
goes  out  to  reach  the  artist  half-way,  thereby 
lessening  the  space  he  has  to  travel  in  his  idealisa- 
tion of  facts.  Behind  this  isolated  figure  looms 
up  the  scene  in  which  he  played  so  great  a  part. 
It  was  precisely  because  this  scene  was  present 
to  the  sculptor's  imagination,  and  he  knew  it 
would  be  to  ours,  that  he  set  himself  to  the  most 
realistic  rendering  of  his  subject  and  thereby 
tritimphed. 

But  once  more,  turn  to  his  statue  of  Peter 
Cooper.  There  is  no  background  here  of  heroism, 
or  any  environment  of  a  nation  roused  to  highest 
sacrifice ;  only  the  background  of  a  building,  ugly 
in  itself,  though  we  know  it  to  be  the  habitation 
of  a  great  educational  movement.     Homely  also 


i6  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

is  the  general  appearance  of  the  founder  and  bene- 
factor, yet  the  figure  in  its  loose,  slovenly  costume, 
seated  in  a  chair,  presents  in  its  solid  mass  a  sug- 
gestion of  f imdamental  force ;  the  left  hand  grasps 
a  walking-cane  with  a  gesture  of  fine  decision,  and 
the  head,  with  its  long  hair  and  fringe  of  beard,  by 
sheer  force  of  genial,  manly  directness,  so  earnest 
and  unsophisticated,  compels  us  to  realize  this  man 
to  be  more  than  ordinary.  He  is  the  prophet  of 
a  cause,  the  leader  of  a  peaceful  revolution.  In 
a  word,  if  one  has  the  mind  and  sympathy  to  note 
it,  this  old  and  yet  alert  man,  of  tmgamished 
simplicity  and  indomitable  confidence,  is  an 
embodiment  of  the  same  sure  uplifting  of  the 
people  to  which  he  contributed  so  largely. 

I  have  chosen  these  examples  to  illustrate 
Saint-Gaudens's  ability  to  idealise  his  subject ,  to 
reach  through  the  fact  to  the  soul  within  the  fact. 
But  his  sensibility  to  impressions  is  not  only 
moved  by  the  larger  aspects  of  life;  it  is  also 
exquisitely  sweet  and  subtle.  Study  his  numer- 
ous low-relief  portraits — for  example,  the  children 
of  Prescott  Hall  Butler,  those  of  Jacob  H.  Schiff, 
and  the  single  portraits  of  Miss  Violet  Sargent 
and  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson.  In  all  these  and 
in  many  others  his  sensibility  is  exhibited,  not  only 
in  the  sympathetic  comprehension  of  character, 
but  also  in  the  extraordinary  finesse  of  the  execu- 


RELIEF   PORTRAIT   OF    ROBERT    LOUIS    STEVENSON 
By  Augustus  Saint-Gaudens 


AUGUSTUS  SAINT-GAUDENS         17 

tion.  The  figttres  are  not  merely  set  against  the 
background;  they  grow  out  of  it,  forming  with  it 
an  enclosed  parterre  of  beautiful  design,  of  deli- 
cately differing  planes  of  elevation,  of  subtle  tones 
of  gray  in  between  the  extremes  of  light  and  dark. 
The  effect  is  ftot  imhke  that  revealed  at  early 
morning  when  the  landscape  is  flattened  in 
appearance  by  the  mist,  and,  as  the  latter  is 
loosened  and  dispersed  by  the  sun,  the  patterned 
forms  take  on  infinitesimal  degrees  of  definition 
and  mysteriousness  behind  the  intervening  veils 
of  lighted  vapotir.  Through  such  a  simile  one 
may,  perhaps,  suggest  the  essential  quality  of  love- 
liness in  these  low  reliefs. 

Yet  they  are  qualities  shared  to-day  by  several 
sculptors  in  France,  sufficient  to  reveal  an  artist 
of  rare  sensibility,  but  not  to  measure  the  grander 
characteristics  of  Saint-Gaudens's  art.  In  the 
conditions  of  American  civilization  he  has  come 
within  a  range  and  depth  of  inspiration  denied 
to  modem  Frenchmen,  and  it  is  in  the  degree  to 
which  he  has  responded  to  those  opportimities 
that  his  preeminence  consists.  His  position  is 
tmique,  for  no  other  sculptor  of  otir  time  has  so 
attuned  the  traditions  of  his  art  to  the  key  of 
the  modem  spirit  for  the  expression  of  grand 
conceptions. 


GEORGE  GREY  BARNARD 


n 

GEORGE  GREY  BARNARD 

WHILE  Saint-Gaudens,  an  American  of  Euro- 
pean descent  and  training,  has  caught  the 
outspoken  voice  of  our  national  life,  George  Grey- 
Barnard,  of  American  parentage  and  practically- 
self-taught,  expresses  its  underlying  force.  To 
the  former  came  a  congenial  opportunity  in  the 
demand  for  memorial  sculpture.  He  turned  it  to 
great  account  through  his  gift  of  penetrating  to 
the  central  fact  of  the  subject  and  of  illuminating 
it  with  a  generous  imagination.  Instead  of  facts, 
however,  it  is  rather  with  ideas  that  Barnard's 
imagination  has  been  concerned.  They  pre- 
ceded h/s  study  of  sculpture,  and  he  sought  the 
latter  as  an  expression  for  them,  influenced  in 
his  self -instruction  by  the  work  of  Michelangelo. 
He  is  from  the  West,  that  huge  quarry  out  of 
which  a  new  order  of  ideas  is  being  gradually 
dug  and  shaped.  The  echoes  of  the  clang  of  tool 
upon  inchoate  material,  of  sharp  wits  and  keen 
purpose  carving  anew  at  the  problems  of  existence, 
reach  us  from  time  to  time  in  this  more  conven- 

31 


33  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

tional  East.  We  may  smile  at  the  crudeness  of 
some  of  the  results  achieved,  but  camiot  disre- 
gard the  import  of  the  endeavour.  The  force 
which  animates  it  is  the  craving  for  larger,  fuller 
liberty  than  mankind  has  yet  attained ;  a  titanic 
force,  often  brutal  in  its  material  manifestation, 
but  with  inherent  mightiness  of  spirit.  It  is  this 
spirit  which  has  enveloped  Barnard's  imagina- 
tion since  his  childhood,  and  forms,  as  it  were, 
the  basis  of  his  art.  Its  keynote  is  humanity, 
the  elemental  relationship  of  man  to  man  and 
of  men  to  the  tmiverse;  a  liberty  of  life  and 
art,  that  would  shake  off  the  trammels  devised 
for  narrower  theories  and  conditions  and  adjust 
itself  to  the  perspective  of  a  wider  horizon.  A 
boyhood  nourished  on  Hterature  and  nature- 
studies  sowed  the  seed  from  which  these  matured 
ideals  were  to  spring. 

He  was  bom  at  Bellefonte,  Pennsylvania,  in  1863, 
the  son  of  a  Presbyterian  minister ;  but  his  early 
years  up  to  the  age  of  twelve  were  spent  in  Chicago, 
after  which  the  family  moved  to  Iowa.  When 
only  nine  years  old  he  began  to  learn  something 
of  shells  and  minerals  from  a  retired  sea  captain; 
later  he  studied  birds  and  animals,  taught  himself 
to  draw  them  and  by  fifteen  was  an  expert 
taxidermist  with  as  many  as  1,200  specimens 
in  his  collection.     Then  for  nearly  two  years  he 


GEORGE  GREY  BARNARD  23 

earned  his  living  as  an  engraver  and  worker  in 
gold  and  silver  ornaments,  learning  meanwhile  to 
model,  imtil,  having  saved  a  little  sum.  of  money, 
he  returned  to  Chicago,  determined  to  become 
a  sculptor.  He  was  now  seventeen  and  had 
not  yet  seen  a  statue. 

There  is  a  hint  in  this  of  the  instinct  that  draws 
would-be  artists  toward  sculpture  rather  than 
painting.  It  is  an  instinct  for  form,  a  passion 
for  its  tangible  bodiliness,  a  prepossession  so 
strong  that  it  seems  to  transpose  the  senses  of 
touch  and  sight;  giving  to  the  fiat  and  round- 
topped  thumb  of  the  sculptor's  strong,  square 
hand  a  sense  equivalent  to  sight,  keen  and  sensi- 
tive as  is  the  touch  of  the  bHnd,  and  giving  to 
his  eye  a  touch-consciousness.  He  feels  with  his 
eye  and  sees  with  his  thumb.  It  is  by  the  touch 
that  in  childhood  we  all  assure  ourselves  of  the 
reality  of  things,  and  it  is  the  stimulation  of  the 
tactile  imagination,  as  Mr.  Bernard  Berenson 
calls  it,  which  is  one  of  the  chief  sources  of  pleas- 
ure in  the  illusion  of  a  picture.  But  touch  to  the 
sculptor  is  not  an  illusion.  While  a  painter 
only  imagines  the  form  of  an  arm  through  his 
sense  of  sight,  the  sculptor  actually  gets  his 
sensation  through  his  hands,  as  he  feels  it  growing 
in  form  and  character,  substance  and  subtlety 
of   surface   imder   his   manipulation.     With   him 


24  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

the  physical  delight  is  added  to  the  mental.  I 
imagine,  indeed,  that  the  degree  to  which  he 
expresses  this  twofold  delight  is  largely  the  meas- 
ure of  his  ability  as  a  sculptor. 

Barnard  thus  early  had  experienced  it;  but, 
we  should  notice,  so  far  only  through  an  experi- 
ence of  minute  work.  Yet  his  communing  with 
himself  and  with  nature  along  the  shores  of  the 
great  lake  and  of  the  Father  of  Waters  was  only 
waiting  to  discover  its  effects  in  a  larger  field  of 
sensations. 

This  awakening  did  not  come  to  him  at  once 
in  Chicago.  There  was  then  no  Art  Institute 
with  its  array  of  sculpture  casts;  no  flourishing 
school  with  its  accompanying  enthusiasms.  Yet, 
possibly  that  was  well  for  the  slow,  silent  devel- 
opment of  this  youth,  a  dreamer  of  dreams, 
already  a  student  of  philosophy  and  occultism, 
fervently  religious,  with  a  religion  that  felt  after 
the  mysteries  of  life  and  included  such  dawning 
notions  as  he  had  of  art. 

He  chanced  upon  a  teacher  whose  stock  in 
trade  consisted  of  four  casts  of  the  antique  statues 
in  reduced  size,  which  he  drew  in  every  pos- 
sible position,  imtil  he  had  completely  mastered 
the  representation  of  an  object  on  the  flat.  This, 
it  will  be  observed,  was  a  temporary  suspension  of 
his  study  of  solid  form,  being  indeed,  a  transpo- 


GEORGE   GREY  BARNARD  25 

sition  from  actual  depth  and  distance  to  the 
illusion  of  a  third  dimension;  and  the  intense 
appHcation  in  this  direction,  with  the  fascina- 
tion of  it,  affected  his  work  for  some  time.  I 
think  a  comparison  of  "The  Boy"  with  one 
of  his  later  works  will  show  this.  The 
early  work  displays  more  feeling  for  light 
and  shade  than  for  form,  and  is,  in  fact, 
rather  a  study  of  planes  of  varying  value 
than  of  biilk.  While  this  may  appear  a  some- 
what fine-drawn  distinction,  it  does  involve  an 
important  principle,  because  it  affects  the  way 
in  which  the  subject  has  been  considered,  the  con- 
ception, indeed,  which  inspired  the  work.  In 
his  later  work  Barnard  is  not  oblivious  to  the 
charm  of  subtle  modelling,  but  the  larger  motive 
is  present  in  his  mind,  that  of  the  constructional, 
organic  character  of  the  mass,  and  it  becomes  the 
distinctive  direction  in  which  his  genius  expresses 
itself. 

He  grew  to  consciousness  of  this  large  aspect  of 
sculpture  through  the  influence  of  Michelangelo. 
Hearing  that  there  were  some  casts  of  the  master's 
work  stored  away  in  a  room  under  lock  and  key 
he  sought  admission.  It  was  at  first  denied; 
students  by  acts  of  vandalism  had  abused  their 
privileges;  the  exhibition  had  been  closed  to 
them,  and  no  exception  could  be  made  in  his  case. 


26  AMERICAN    MASTERS 

"But  I  must  see  them,"  was  his  simple  answer. 
"Michelangelo  lived  and  worked  for  me  as  much 
as  Jesus  did ;  his  works  belong  to  me — I  must  see 
them."  In  presence  of  such  a  fervour  of  con- 
viction the  director  yielded,  and  Barnard  was 
allowed  to  come  and  go  as  he  pleased. 

If  one  could  really  know  the  boy's  emotions, 
what  a  revelation  it  would  be  !  To  most  of  us,  if 
we  can  recall  our  youth,  the  impressions  that 
counted  most  came  gradually,  finding  us  often 
unprepared  for  them,  and  through  circumstances 
or  our  own  levity  of  soul  unable  to  receive  due 
profit  at  the  time.  But  to  the  yoimg  Barnard, 
with  a  seriousness  beyond  his  years,  peering  into 
the  mystery  of  life,  feeling  after  expression  in 
form,  the  revelation  of  Michelangelo's  genius 
must  have  been  like  sudden  light  to  a  blind  man, 
who,  hitherto,  had  had  but  vague  imaginings  of 
light  and  form.  There,  in  the  quiet  afternoons, 
until  daylight  faded  into  twilight,  alone  with  these 
sublime  beings,  the  boy  would  sit  and  sit.  Tired 
on  one  occasion,  he  sat  himself  in  the  lap  of  the 
"Moses" — for  he  was  small  and  boyish-looking 
despite  his  seventeen  years — and  resting  his  curly 
head  against  the  statue's  beard  fell  fast  asleep, 
his  young,  eager  spirit,  wrapped  around  and 
absorbed  by  the  influence  of  the  mighty  dead.  Do 
you  not  perceive  in  this  little  story  another  proof 


GEORGE   GREY   BARNARD  27 

of  the  boy's  physical  joy  in  form,  so  that  after 
drawing  from  it  sustenance  to  his  spirit  he  nestled 
into  contact  with  the  feel  of  it,  as  a  baby,  surfeited 
with  nourishment,  lies  close  to  the  mother's 
breast  ? 

And  it  was  with  a  good  deal  of  a  baby's  uncon- 
sciousness, I  suspect,  that  Barnard  sucked  in 
nourishment  from  the  experiences  of  this  time. 
He  was  not  as  yet  deliberately  studying  these 
statues,  was  still  ignorant  of  the  technical  prob- 
lems which  they  offered ;  but,  himself  a  dreamer 
of  dreams,  he  lost  himself  in  the  magnitude  of  the 
conception,  and  little  by  little  grew  to  realise 
how  dreams  may  shape  themselves  into  form. 
He  began  to  have  an  inkling  of  the  majesty  of 
form  in  the  roimd,  as  something  not  to  be  trans- 
lated into  the  flat,  but  to  be  felt  in  the  bulk;  a 
realisation  of  the  wonder  of  palpable  structure, 
when  it  has  become  the  plastic  expression  of  noble 
thought.  It  was  several  years  later,  and  much 
discipline  had  to  be  undergone,  before  the  impres- 
sions of  this  lonely  communing  were  to  become 
part  of  his  conscious  equipment  as  a  sculptor. 

But  I  wonder  whether  the  scarcity  of  artists, 
as  compared  with  the  great  number  of  skilful 
practitioners  of  painting  and  sculpture,  is  not 
due,  in  part  at  any  rate,  to  the  fact  that  few 
students  enjoy  a  period  of  subconscious  reception 


28  AMERICAN    MASTERS 

of  impressions.  In  place  of  it  they  are  surrounded 
by  the  clatter  of  the  classroom,  share  in  the 
smart  little  theories  of  their  fellow-students  and 
for  the  influence  of  the  great  masters  substitute 
adulation  for  some  teacher  who  professes  to  know 
a  short  cut  to  success.  Most  modem  education, 
indeed,  is  a  bustling  after  results,  that  allows  no 
space  for  the  slow,  steady,  silent  growth,  such  as 
prepares  the  sapling  to  take  its  place  among  the 
giants  of  the  forests.  Yet  in  our  study  of  the  lives 
of  all  true  artists  we  shall  find  that  the  period 
of  communing,  either  with  nature  or  with  the 
masterpieces  of  art,  has  intervened.  Happy  for 
the  student  to  whom  it  comes  early  ! 

At  the  end  of  his  eighteenth  year  he  received  a 
commission  for  the  portrait  bust  of  a  child,  and 
discovered  for  himself  the  manner  of  executing 
it  in  marble.  With  the  sum  received,  he  went  to 
Paris,  studying  for  a  time  imder  the  academician, 
Cavelier,  and  then  establishing  himself  in  a 
humble  studio.  Twelve  years  he  lived  in  Paris, 
enduring  the  extreme  of  privations,  until  the 
patronage  of  an  American,  Mr.  Alfred  Coming 
Clark,  relieved  the  pressure  of  want;  and  the 
acceptance  of  seven  of  his  works  at  the  Champ 
de  Mars  in  1894  and  his  election  as  an  associate 
of  the  Soci6t6  Nationale  des  Beaux  Arts  crowned 
his  struggles  with  artistic  recognition.     During 


THE    HEWER 
By  George  Grey  Barnard 


GEORGE   GREY   BARNARD  29 

the  intervening  years  he  had  shimned  the  influence 
of  modem  Paris,  drawing  nutriment  in  the 
museimis  from  Phidias  and  Michelangelo,  from 
the  divine  repose  of  the  one  and  from  the  other's 
conflict  of  soul,  conscious  of  great  strivings  within 
himself  that  craved  utterance. 

All  his  early  works  were  so  completely  in 
response  to  an  impulse  from  within,  that  they 
seem  to  me  to  reveal  themselves  as  confessions 
of  his  soul,  as  manifestations  not  only  of  his 
artistic  but  of  his  spirittial  development. 

The  earliest  was  "The  Boy":  a  nude  figure 
seated,  asleep,  with  arched  back  and  with  head 
drooping  on  the  breast;  a  supple  form,  with  that 
mingling  of  firmness  and  languor  which  a  child 
presents  in  sound,  healthy  sleep;  a  composition, 
very  fresh  in  conception  and  beautiful  in  its 
rhythmical  compactness;  expressive,  moreover, 
in  every  part,  of  the  character  of  profound  slum- 
ber. This  single  theme  of  feeling  flows  through 
the  whole  figure  in  measured  bars  of  melodious 
movement.  I  like  to  think  of  it  as  an  artist's 
expression,  not  of  a  boy,  but  of  boyhood ;  his  own 
boyhood,  in  its  tmalloyed  pvirity  and  freshness, 
which  even  in  his  manhood  is  "  not  dead  but 
sleepeth";  abiding  with  him  in  its  beautiful 
quiescence,  perpetual  testimony  to  the  living  on 
of  the  child  in  the  artist's  soul. 


30  AMERICAN    MASTERS 

Then  may  we  not  see  in  "Pan"  an  embodiment 
of  his  experiences  of  passionate  youth?  Truly 
it  is  also  the  reincarnation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
old  golden  legend  of  the  world,  before  it  was 
burdened  with  seriousness,  still  irresponsible 
and  sportive;  when  the  woods  and  streams  were 
haimted  by  creatures  close  akin  to  the  animals, 
but  gifted  also  with  something  of  man's  higher 
opportunities:  lazy,  sensuous  and  luxuriously 
content.  But  this  is  only  to  refer  back  to  a 
mythological  type  the  perennial  characteristics 
of  the  birth  of  passion  in  a  youth.  It  seems 
to  me  quite  one  with  the  philosophic  bent  of 
Barnard's  mind  that  he  should  have  compre- 
hended both  intentions  in  his  "Pan."  It  is  as  if 
he  had  analysed  himself  and  then  exorcised 
his  vagrant  desires  by  imprisoning  them  in 
bronze.  As  an  artist  he  takes  his  opporttmity 
in  the  recumbent  figure  of  enforcing  the  sensuous 
charm  of  the  long,  sinuous  limbs,  and  once  more 
indulges  in  the  luxuriousness  of  firm,  soft  fleshi- 
ness ;  this  time,  however,  with  muscles  not  relaxed 
in  sleep  but  unstnmg  in  the  sweet  lassitude  of 
lazy  ease.  Then  what  a  subtle  insinuation  of 
contempt  for  the  type  as  he  conceives  it !  He 
sets  one  long  asinine  ear  acock,  and  lets  the  other 
droop  ridiculously,  while  in  the  slanting  eye  there 
is  a  leer  of  mischievous,  foolish  wantonness.     I 


GEORGE   GREY   BARNARD  31 

do  not  forget  that  this  is  later  work,  executed 
after  Barnard's  return  to  America;  yet  his 
point  of  view  is  so  subjective  that  he  can  scarcely 
fail  sooner  or  later  to  express  the  struggles  of 
his  own  soul. 

But  apart  from  these  psychological  considera- 
tions the  statue  is  one  of  extraordinary  artistic 
interest ;  the  composition  highly  original  and  to  a 
grand  degree  sculpturesque.  It  has,  that  is  to 
say,  qualities  peculiar  to  sculpture;  the  impress- 
iveness  of  bulk,  of  form  in  the  round,  with  vig- 
orous appeal  to  our  tactile  sense  in  its  bossy 
elevations  and  deep  hollows,  and  with  that 
aptitude  for  changing  effects  of  light  and  shadow, 
bold  in  parts,  in  others  mysteriously  subtle.  More- 
over, it  is  remarkable  in  its  expression  of  character 
in  pose  and  gesture;  for  subtle  expressiveness 
could  scarcely  be  carried  further  in  the  line  of 
this  conception  and  it  is  continuous  throughout 
the  figure  and  harmoniously  complete.  These, 
moreover,  are  the  traits  conspicuous  in  all 
Barnard's  work. 

We  shall  find  them  in  the  group  "I  Feel  Two 
Natures  Struggling  Within  Me,"  which,  perhaps, 
more  than  any  other  of  his  works  breaks  away 
from  the  usual  canons  of  composition.  I  can 
remember  that  when  I  first  saw  it  the  abruptness 
of   the   composition    startled    me    unpleasantly; 


33  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

but  this  feeling  has  worn  off  and  I  recognize  an 
inherent  reasonableness  in  the  arrangement,  a 
harmony  of  fitness  in  the  conception.  It  illus- 
trates, in  fact,  the  liberty  of  the  western  spirit, 
which  dares  to  free  itself  from  formula;  it  is  not 
to  be  taken  as  a  subversion  of  old  principles,  but  as 
a  justification  of  the  right  of  freedom  of  will, 
where  the  originality  of  thought  demands  some 
freer  method  of  expression.  For,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  the  salient  feature  of  this  group  is  the 
expression  of  character ;  and  by  the  time  that  you 
fall  tmder  the  spell  of  its  intention,  you  are  recon- 
ciled to  the  abruptness  of  the  composition.  It  may 
interest  those  who  are  distrustful  of  "  literary  " 
expression  in  a  work  of  art  to  know  that  the 
metaphysical  title  of  this  group  was  an  after- 
thought. It  had  its  inception  in  the  chance 
grouping,  afterward  slightly  modified,  of  two 
models,  and  the  idea  was  to  reproduce  the  charac- 
ter of  pose  and  gesture.  Then  the  standing 
figure  suggested  the  notion  of  a  conqueror;  not 
one  of  the  theatrical  sort  with  action  of  defiance, 
but  one  who  through  defeat  has  reached  an  ulti- 
mate victory ;  and  so  by  degrees  the  group  began 
to  partake  of  the  fulness  of  the  sculptor's  own 
thinkings  and  conclusions,  until  it  finished  by 
presenting  in  generalized  form  the  conflict  of  the 
two  natures  of  man. 


GEORGE   GREY    BARNARD  33 

The  evolution  of  this  group  very  fairly  illus- 
trates the  balance  of  impulses  in  Barnard's  work. 
He  is  by  natural  instinct  a  sculptor;  one  whose 
imaginings  inevitably  shape  themselves  in  form. 
On  the  other  hand  he  is  a  thinker  of  thoughts  and 
a  dreamer  of  dreams  that  press  for  utterance, 
and  he  finds  the  utterance  in  plastic  expression; 
but  there  is  no  confusion  in  his  own  mind  between 
the  mode  of  expression  and  the  thought  expressed. 
He  recognizes  both  the  possibilities  and  the 
limitations  of  his  art,  and  in  the  working  out  of 
his  thought  confines  himself  to  those  aspects  of 
it  which  lend  themselves  to  plastic  interpretation. 
At  the  same  time  his  nature  is  so  earnest  and 
intense  that  it  would  seem  impossible  and  hor- 
rible to  him  not  to  use  his  art  to  some  serious 
end.  But,  be  sure,  it  is  less  the  bigness  of  his 
purpose  than  his  power  as  a  sculptor,  or,  shall 
we  say,  the  happy  adjustment  of  the  two,  that 
gives  ultimate  importance  to  his  work. 

In  further  proof  of  this  let  me  refer  to  two  more 
of  his  statues,  one  of  which  had  its  origin  in 
chance,  the  other  in  deliberation:  The  former  is 
"  Maidenhood "  which  was  primarily  suggested 
by  the  pose  of  a  model,  spontaneously  assumed. 
It  had  character  and  was  evidently  characteristic 
of  this  individual  type  of  girlhood.  He  studied 
the  figure,  first  in  its  ensemble  and  then  in  the 


34  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

correlation  of  its  parts,  and  as  he  worked  the  flood- 
gates of  sentiment  were  gradually  Hfted,  until 
there  poured  into  the  work  his  pent-up  feeling 
and  convictions  concerning  female  beauty,  his 
personal  ones  as  a  man  and  the  abstract  devotion 
that  he  felt  for  it  as  an  artist.  The  result  is  a 
statue,  lovely  as  a  piece  of  technique,  lovely  also 
in  its  inspired  interpretation  of  beauty  of  form 
and  soul;  a  figure  that  has  the  allurement  of 
individual  personality,  as  well  as  that  higher 
quality  of  abstract  loveliness  which  belongs  to 
an  ideal  conception,  rendered  with  exquisite 
reverence  and  a  spirit  of  purest  poetry. 

The  other  statue,  "  The  Hewer,"  was  begim  with 
the  deHberate  purpose  of  embodying  in  a  series 
of  figures  the  gradual  evolution  of  mankind  and, 
I  fancy  also,  of  the  human  soul  toward  higher 
possibilities.  There  is  nothing  imusual  in  the 
theme,  but  much  in  the  way  in  which  Barnard 
has  comprehended  and  expressed  it.  He  has  felt 
it  in  its  elemental  significance  and  set  it  forth 
with  monumental  simplicity.  The  backgroimd 
of  his  imagination,  and  he  makes  it  part  of  ours, 
is  the  nebulous  immensity  out  of  which  primitive 
man  emerges  toward  the  light.  The  step  is  won 
by  putting  forth  of  strength;  but  tentatively, 
gropingly,  with  only  partial  consciousness  of 
strength ;  there  is  an  exertion  of  power,  but  a  re- 


TWO    FRIENDS 
By  George  Grey  Barnard 

A   Memorial  Monumcr!': 


GEORGE   GREY   BARNARD  35 

serve  far  greater  of  unexpended  power.  In 
correspondence  with  the  controlled  bigness  of 
this  conception  is  the  generalized  method  of  the 
actual  modelling,  so  that  the  eye  is  not  deflected 
to  this  or  that  part,  but  compelled  to  embrace 
the  figure  as  a  whole.  It  is  in  this  respect  that 
Barnard's  work  differs  from  that  of  Rodin,  to 
which  at  a  first  glance  we  might  feel  disposed  to 
liken  it,  in  consequence  of  the  expression  of  char- 
acter in  both  and  the  freedom  from  conventional 
restraint.  But  each  has  his  separate  method  of 
attack;  for  while  Rodin  reaches  his  ensemble 
through  an  elaboration  of  the  parts,  Barnard  is 
possessed  first  and  foremost  of  the  conception  in 
its  entirety  and  keeps  the  parts  subordinate. 
The  one  entices  you  to  follow  the  play  of  subtle 
expression  that  winds  through  the  figure,  while 
the  other  arrests  your  eye  to  its  structural  sig- 
nificance as  a  unity. 

In  a  brief  summary  of  this  sculptor's  art  the 
thing  to  be  noted  is  that  it  is  distinguished  as 
much  by  breadth  of  conception  as  by  expression 
of  character,  and  always  with  an  instinctive 
regard  for  the  simplest  form  of  plastic  interpre- 
tation. It  is  this  which  separates  him  from  the 
hypersensitive  tendencies  of  the  old  world  and 
proves  him  to  be  a  prophet  of  the  new.  His 
vision   is   less   penetrating  than   embracing;  his 


36  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

methods  more  constructive  than  analytical;  his 
emotions  ample,  sane.  His  genius  indeed  has 
not  grown  with  the  sinuous  convolutions  of  a 
sapling  that  enforces  its  existence  in  a  thicket, 
but  like  one  that  stands  alone  in  virgin  soil  with 
spaciousness  aroimd  it. 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD 


m 

JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD 

"DORN  in  Urbana,  Ohio,  in  1830,  Ward  is 
still  an  active  force  among  American 
sculptors.  His  career  connects  the  past  with 
the  present,  spanning  the  long  interval  like  a 
bridge:  one  pier,  embedded  in  the  old  condition 
of  things  when  American  sculptors  first  began 
to  make  America  the  scene  and  inspiration  of 
their  art,  its  arch  mounting  above  the  indifference 
to,  and  ignorance  of,  things  artistic  which  pre- 
vailed before  the  influence  of  European  art  began 
to  be  felt  here,  and  its  other  pier  firmly  incorpor- 
ated into  the  new  order.  And  there  is  additional 
fitness  in  the  simile,  for  Ward's  career  has 
presented  the  logical  reasonableness  of  an  archi- 
tectural structure ;  built  up  of  character,  stout  as 
granite,  shaped  by  experience  and  tempered  by 
local  necessities ;  a  structure  modified  by  practical 
as  well  as  by  esthetic  considerations,  which  has 
been  invaluable  in  its  day  and  embodies  some 
features  of  permanent  worth  among  others  that 
time  has  superseded.      For  the  architect  of  his 

39 


40  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

own  life  cannot  proceed  like  the  builder  of  a 
material  bridge — establish  simultaneously  his 
hither  and  nether  pier,  and  then  by  ingenious 
underpinning  support  the  weight  of  the  arch 
until  he  reaches  the  keystone,  which  finally  locks 
all  into  a  compact  whole.  He  can  but  start 
with  good,  firm  basis  of  intention,  hew  the  stones 
as  faithfully  as  he  knows  and  set  them  in  cement 
of  honest  endeavour,  lifting  his  arch  by  personal 
force,  while  the  force  of  gravity,  acting  outside 
himself,  gradually  determines  the  direction  of  its 
curve.  He  will  be  shrewder  than  most  if  he 
guesses  when  he  has  reached  the  keystone — 
generally  will  only  discern  it  after  long  years 
by  looking  back;  and  when  he  gains  the  farther 
bank  of  the  stream  and  once  more  has  the  firm 
grotmd  beneath  his  feet,  if  he  turns  rotmd  to 
view  the  work  he  will  be  conscious  of  parts 
which  disturb  the  symmetry  of  the  whole:  here 
a  bit  of  inferior  craftsmanship  which  his  later 
knowledge  detects,  there  some  result  of  untoward 
circumstances.  He  is  happy  if  his  life  presents 
a  constancy  of  purpose  and  has  been  of  service 
to  his  fellows. 

Such  happiness  may  fairly  be  enjoyed  by  Ward. 
His  share  in  establishing  the  National  Sculpture 
Society,  of  which  he  has  been  president  since  its 
foimdation,    would    alone    entitle    him    to    the 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD        41 

permanent  consideration  of  his  colleagues,  while 
to  the  sum  total  of  American  sculpture  he  has 
made  some  very  notable  contributions.  That 
his  work  includes  examples  which  fall  short  in 
artistic  conception  and  in  technical  skill,  is 
undeniable.  They  are  the  result  partly  of  the 
circumstances  of  his  development  and  partly 
of  his  own  determined,  straightforward  charac- 
ter; a  combination  of  meager  artistic  experiences 
at  the  start  and  of  a  predisposition  to  the 
objective  point  of  view. 

One  imagines  that  he  has  always  been  power- 
ftilly  attracted  to  the  facts  of  things:  the  facts 
of  American  life  and  the  facts  of  the  subjects 
which  he  has  portrayed  in  his  art.  If  there  was 
any  fiber  of  transcendentalism  in  his  mind — and 
few  of  us  are  altogether  without  some  vision  of 
what  is  beyond  the  bounds  of  actual  experience — 
it  took  the  form  of  speculating  upon  the  future 
of  American  civilisation,  which  facts  have  subse- 
quently indorsed,  or,  if  it  entered  into  his  feeling 
toward  his  subject,  made  him  realise  something 
of  the  spirit  embedded  in  the  fact,  as  in  his  early 
statue  representing  the  Negro  breaking  loose  his 
fetters.  But  the  various  theories  concerning  art 
which  study  in  Paris  might  have  taught  him, 
and  which  in  a  measure  are  the  shibboleth  of 
people  whose  faith  in  facts  has  dwindled,  and, 


42  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

unless  reallied  to  actual  facts,  are  but  "vacant 
chaff  well  meant  for  grain,"  he  had  no  means  of 
learning  in  his  youth,  and  throughout  his  man- 
hood, I  suspect,  has  had  little  patience  with. 
Still  at  the  bottom  of  all  theories  is  the  principle 
that  it  is  not  in  the  subject  but  in  the  manner  of 
presenting  it  that  a  work  of  art  is  proclaimed ; 
that  technique  and  motive  should  be  indissolubly 
wedded — to  their  mutual  perfection  if  each  is 
choice,  and,  if  either  is  inferior,  to  a  mutual  loss. 
This  was  not  recognised  in  America  in  Ward's 
youth,  nor  tmtil  much  later;  and  none  of  his 
work,  it  is  probably  true  to  say,  reveals  that  par- 
ticular kind  of  craftsmanlike  facility  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  work  of  the  sculptor  who  has  been 
trained  abroad,  and  by  the  side  of  this  more 
accomplished  modelling  Ward's  statues  often 
appear  crude.  But  if  they  lack  the  stylistic 
quality,  the  best  of  them  have  a  force  which  more 
than  compensates.  It  results  from  a  strong  feel- 
ing for  design,  the  general  accumulative  effect 
of  the  whole  composition,  which  itself  results 
from  a  strong  antecedent  feeling  for  form.  The 
latter  seems  to  characterise  all  self-taught  stu- 
dents, whether  sculptors  or  painters ;  and,  although, 
as  their  experience  broadens,  there  may  be 
increased  subtlety  of  expression,  the  primary 
characteristic  of  their  work  will  continue  to  be 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS   WARD        43 

a  very  strong  sense  and  enjoyment  of  the  struc- 
tural facts  of  the  figure  or  landscape,  and  most 
frequently  in  their  simplest  and  directest  mani- 
festations. And  in  the  case  of  sculpture  this  is  an 
especially  valuable  gift  of  vision,  since  the  most 
sculptural  quality  in  sculpture  is  unquestionably 
that  of  form:  its  solidity,  stability  and  natural 
grace  or  dignity  of  movement.  It  is  precisely 
in  these  particulars  that  some  of  our  foreign- 
taught  sculptors,  while  easily  excelling  Ward  in 
refinements  of  detail,  fall  short  of  him. 

As  a  boy  he  had  been  devoted  to  fashioning 
with  his  fingers,  and,  at  the  age  of  nineteen, 
entered  the  studio  of  Henry  Kirke  Brown.  The 
latter,  after  practising  as  a  sculptor  at  Albany, 
had  spent  some  five  years  in  Europe,  chiefly  in 
Italy;  but,  feeling  strongly  that  an  American 
should  occupy  himself  with  American  subjects, 
and  to  that  end  should  work  in  his  own  country, 
resisted  the  tendency  among  sculptors  of  that 
day  to  join  the  American  colony  in  Rome  or 
Florence.  He  therefore  returned  and  engaged 
upon  the  equestrian  statue  of  Washington,  now 
in  Union  Square,  New  York.  Ward  assisted 
him  in  the  work  and  gained  thereby  a  fine 
experience  of  what  makes  for  nobility  in  design. 
He  must  have  profited  also  by  companionship 
with  a  man  of  such  large  and  generous  mind. 


44  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

But  his  stay  in  the  studio  was  short,  and  for  the 
rest  he  has  been  the  architect  of  his  own  career. 
A  fragment  remains  of  his  student  work,  a 
study  for  a  high-rehef  in  which  an  Indian  is 
represented  breaking  and  burning  his  arrows — 
an  episode  of  the  voyage  of  Hendrik  Hudson. 
One  cannot  help  noticing  the  naivete  of  the 
composition,  the  simple  intention  of  representing 
the  action  just  as  it  might  have  happened;  the 
apparent  imconsciousness  that  any  academic 
considerations  were  involved.  It,  no  doubt, 
represents  the  attitude  of  his  mind  at  that  time, 
and  to  a  very  considerable  extent  prefigures  the 
lines  along  which  his  development  was  to  pro- 
ceed. Thus  a  year  or  two  later,  while  he  was 
working  in  Washington  and  executing  busts  of 
many  leading  men  of  the  time,  and  the  whole 
country  began  to  seethe  with  passion  over  the 
slave  question,  Ward's  contribution  to  it  is 
"The  Freedman."  It  shows  simply  a  Negro,  in 
an  entirely  natural  pose,  who  has  put  forth  his 
strength  and  is  looking  very  quietly  at  the  broken 
fetters.  The  whole  gist  of  the  matter  is  thus  em- 
bodied in  a  most  terse  and  direct  fashion,  without 
rodomontade  or  sentimentality,  but  solely  as  an 
objective  fact  into  which  there  is  no  intrusion  of 
the  sculptor's  personal  feeling.  But  of  his  personal 
point  of  view  toward  his  art  there  is  abimdant 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD        45 

testimony.  This  figure,  which  was  never  repro- 
duced larger  than  statuette  size,  but  in  that 
form  had  a  wide  popularity,  proves  how  keen 
and  true  was  Ward's  instinct  for  the  sculpturesque 
qualities  of  sculpture  and  for  the  limit  to  which 
it  is  safe  to  go  in  the  interpretation  of  sentiment. 
The  latter  is  simply  enforced  by  the  action  of  the 
figure. 

In  order  that  he  might  have  opportunities  of 
studying  form  in  the  freedom  of  movement,  he 
visited  the  western  frontier  and  lived  for 
a  while  among  the  Indians.  A  statue  of  this 
period  is  "The  Indian  Hunter,"  which  now  stands 
in  bronze  in  Central  Park,  New  York.  Again  it 
is  a  strikingly  vivid  realisation  of  actual  facts; 
of  the  racial  characteristics  of  both  the  man  and 
his  dog,  and  of  their  respective  kinds  of  move- 
ment: the  man's,  stealthy  and  powerfully  con- 
trolled; the  dog's,  more  keen  and  alert  and  need- 
ing to  be  checked.  Again,  too,  one  feels,  I  think, 
the  absence  of  any  preconceived  theories  of 
technique,  so  that  the  group  has  something  of  a 
primitive,  almost  barbarous  feeling;  which,  how- 
ever, seems  strangely  appropriate  to  the  subject. 

Yet  it  is  easy  to  tmderstand  that  for  a  young 
sculptor,  so  resolutely  facing  natural  facts  and 
tmtrained  in  academic  teaching  of  what  is  right 
and  what  is  wrong,  a  table  of  doctrines  which  may 


46  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

easily  lead  to  dry  formalism,  but  which  yet  holds 
many  directions  and  warnings  of  value,  there 
will  be  shoals  ahead.  The  actual  may  readily 
drift  into  the  commonplace;  and  that  some  of 
Ward's  portrait-statues  should  be  of  small  accoimt 
was  to  be  expected  from  the  circumstances  of 
his  self-wrought  development  and  peculiar  per- 
sonal point  of  view.  They  were  the  stepping- 
stones  by  which  he  gradually  rose  to  higher 
things.  For  the  thing  to  be  noticed  is  that  he 
eventually  reached  the  power  that  is  exhibited 
in  such  works  as  the  "Greeley,"  "Washington," 
"Lafayette,"  "General  Thomas,"  and  in  that 
masterpiece,  the  "Beecher"  statue,  by  following 
with  undeviating  persistence  the  promptings  of 
his  youth;  only  that  with  matured  experience 
came  a  clearer  discrimination  of  the  salient  facts, 
and  a  deeper  imderstanding  of  what  they  truly 
signified.  In  a  word,  he  reached  beyond  the 
fact  to  its  significance. 

It  may  be  mainly  the  significance  of  clothes, 
as  in  that  remarkable  statue  of  "Lafayette"  at 
Burlington,  Vermont,  in  which  he  represents  the 
hero  of  two  revolutions  as  a  middle-aged  dandy. 
I  cannot  say  whether  he  saw  behind  Lafayette's 
support  of  liberty,  as  Carlyle  did,  but  at  any  rate 
the  figure  has  simply  the  easy  dignity  of  a  well- 
bred  man,  whose  embonpoint  has  modified  but 


THE   GREELEY    STA rUE 
By  John  Quincy  Adams  Ward 


THE    BEECIIER    STATUE 
By  John  Quincy  Adams  Ward 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD        47 

not  effaced  his  debonair  demeanour  and  whose 
clothes  set  gracefully  to  his  person.  Yet  the 
person  is  unmistakably  enforced.  The  man  is  not 
lost  in  the  millinery,  as  one  may  have  noticed 
in  some  costume  statues ;  and  it  is  in  this  respect 
that  Ward  has  shown  his  true  appreciation  of  the 
significance  of  clothes.  They  not  only  envelop 
the  figure  as  naturally  as  a  skin,  and  with  no 
hindrance  to  the  imagining  of  the  body  inside 
them,  but  they  adapt  themselves  completely  to 
the  character  of  the  man  as  shown  in  the  pose 
of  the  body  and  expression  of  the  head.  They 
have  been  reduced,  in  fact,  to  an  abstraction 
corresponding  to  the  sculptor's  conception  of  the 
man. 

In  the  "Washington"  statue,  which  stands 
upon  the  steps  of  the  Sub-Treasury  Building  in 
Wall  Street,  the  sculptor  had  the  advantage  of  a 
picturesque  costtmie,  and  he  has  treated  it  with 
the  same  masterful  ease.  Yet  on  this  occasion 
our  attention  is  not  divided  between  the  sig- 
nificance of  the  clothes  and  that  of  the  figure. 
The  latter  represents  Washington  in  the  cere- 
mony of  taking  the  oath  of  office  in  1789,  an 
event  which  happened  near  the  spot  now  occu- 
pied by  the  statue.  The  pose  is  entirely  free 
from  heroics :  that  of  a  noble,  true-hearted  gentle- 
man, conscious  of  the  dignity  and  responsibility 


48  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

of  the  occasion.  One  could  have  wished  that  the 
legs  were  planted  more  squarely  on  the  ground,  as 
it  would  have  increased  the  statuesque  assertive- 
ness  of  the  figure ;  but  it  is  quite  possible  that  the 
sculptor  intentionally  avoided  this,  in  the  desire 
to  suggest  that  it  was  at  the  call  of  duty  and  not 
of  personal  ambition  that  Washington  accepted 
office.  So  he  has  taken  the  weight  off  the  right 
foot  and  advanced  it  slightly,  thus  giving  a 
pliant,  curving  motion  to  the  body,  and  with  it  a 
touch  of  hesitancy  to  the  pose.  Backed  by  the 
classic  fagade  of  the  Sub-Treasury  Building  the 
statue  is  very  happily  placed,  and  amid  the 
turmoil  of  the  neighbourhood  strikes  a  note  which 
is  refreshingly  true  and  noble. 

No  less  turmoil  surrounds  the  Greeley  monu- 
ment in  Newspaper  Row  and,  outwardly  at  any 
rate,  of  a  less  savoury  character.  Moreover,  its 
pedestal  abuts  upon  a  narrow  sidewalk,  and  the 
figure,  seated  in  an  armchair,  has  the  imhelpful 
background  of  a  large  plate-glass  window.  It  is 
itself,  too,  of  shambling  build,  imcouthly  costumed, 
the  large,  roimd  face,  oddly  fringed  with  a  rim 
of  whiskers.  The  legs  are  wide  apart;  one  arm 
rests  on  the  back  of  the  chair,  the  other  lies  upon 
the  thigh,  its  hand  holding  a  sheet  of  paper; 
the  rovmd  shoulders  droop  forward,  and  the  head 
is  inclined  so  as  to  bring  into  view  the  fiat,  dome- 


JOHN   QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD        49 

like  skull.  Yes,  the  whole  composition  is  the 
very  reverse  of  what  we  usually  understand  by 
statuesque,  and  thousands  pass  and  repass  it 
daily  without  any  recognition,  so  occupied  are 
they  in  threading  their  way  through  the  swarm 
of  loud-limged  sellers  of  chronic  "specials." 
Yet  if  you  will  step  back  into  the  roadway, 
at  the  risk  of  being  demolished  by  trolley-cars  or 
wagons  full  of  mile-long  rolls  of  paper,  you  cannot 
fail  to  be  impressed  by  the  very  strangeness  of 
the  figure.  How  full  of  character  it  is !  Sitting 
back  almost  in  a  heap,  pondering  some  point, 
the  figure  yet  suggests  that  it  is  about  to  rise 
and  put  its  resolve  into  action,  so  remarkable  is 
the  mixture  of  downrightedness  and  alacrity. 
It  is  indeed  a  representation  of  character  truly 
original  and  of  a  convincing  force,  that  bears  the 
stamp  of  genius.  Let  us  place  it  in  our  respect 
alongside  of  Saint-Gaudens's  "Peter  Cooper," 
as  equally  a  triumph  of  art  over  uncompromising 
material,  and,  indeed,  along  similar  lines  of  un- 
flinching acceptance  of  the  actual  facts  of  the 
problem,  and  of  broad,  ample  sympathy  with 
nobility,  though  it  does  not  lie  upon  the  surface. 
For  the  convenience  of  analysing  Ward's 
methods  I  have  ventured  to  regard  these  three 
statues  as  examples  of  the  significance,  respect- 
ively,   of    clothes,    form    and    character.      Not 


50  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

quite  accurately,  I  admit,  because  the  three 
motives  unite  in  all  in  various  proportions;  but 
perhaps  I  am  right  in  feeling  a  preponderance  of 
the  one  in  each.  However  that  may  be,  we 
shall  find  a  completely  balanced  tmion  of  all  three 
in  the  Beecher  monument.  The  sculptor  had 
particularly  in  mind  the  episode  of  Henry  Ward 
Beecher's  visit  to  England  in  1863,  on  a  special 
mission  from  President  Lincoln,  for  the  purpose 
of  bringing  to  English  public  notice  the  true 
position  of  the  North.  He  was  met  by  noisy 
opposition,  but  bore  it  down  by  indomitable 
endurance  and  intellectual  force.  In  the  strongly 
marked,  mobile  f eatixres ;  in  the  intellectuality  of 
the  head,  carried  so  resolutely  above  the  broad 
chest;  in  the  striking  simplicity  of  the  quiet, 
stalwart  pose,  no  less  than  in  the  absence  of  all 
rhetorical  gesture  in  the  arms,  which  are  sus- 
pended at  the  sides;  even  to  such  a  detail  as  the 
right  hand,  not  clenched  aggressively  or  held  in 
indecision,  but  with  the  fingers  drawn  up  to  the 
thumb,  a  gesture  that  mingles  alertness  with 
poise,  the  figure  expresses  character,  rocklike 
will  and  mental  preeminence.  The  Inverness 
cape  serves  to  give  increased  weight  and  breadth 
to  the  form;  one  arm  being  restrained  within  its 
folds,  the  other  free  for  a  fling  of  action  if  the 
occasion    require    it.      The    figure    bears    down 


JOHN  QUINCY  ADAMS  WARD         51 

upon  its  pedestal,  column-like,  monumental  in 
the  highest  degree.  It  is  a  portrait-statue  of 
most  extraordinary  impressiveness. 

The  equestrian  statue  of  General  Thomas  at 
Washington,  District  of  Columbia,  is  a  spirited  and 
arresting  composition.  The  rider  presents  a  por- 
trait study  of  considerable  power,  but  the  sculptor  in 
his  zeal  for  the  actual  has  seized  upon  the  fact  that 
Thomas  was  not  a  practised  horseman.  He  does 
not  move  in  his  seat  with  the  motion  of  the  horse, 
his  bridle-hand  lacks  control,  and  the  action  of 
the  horse's  head  proclaims  it.  One  may  enjoy  a 
detail  so  minute  as  that  of  the  hand  in  the  Beecher 
statue,  because  it  is  contributory  to  the  total 
effect,  and  equally  regret  this  insistence  upon  a 
personal  peculiarity  of  the  General,  since  the 
total  effect  is  thereby  diminished.  Such  a 
detail  is  local  and  insignificant,  only  to  be  appre- 
ciated by  a  few  of  his  comrades ;  but  the  statue 
will  endure  and  be  judged  for  what  it  presents; 
a  general  and  his  horse — do  they  move  as  one? 
is  the  personal  supremacy  of  the  rider  main- 
tained? 

The  pedestal  of  the  "Beecher"  is  embellished 
with  figures.  On  one  side  a  woman  and  on  the 
other  a  little  girl  is  depositing  a  wreath,  and  a 
boy  is  steadying  the  latter  figure.  They  are 
well  modelled  in  natural  and  gracefiil  movement, 


Si  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

but  they  impart  a  touch  of  sentimentality,  so  alien 
to  Ward's  habit  and,  indeed,  to  the  spirit  of  the 
statue,  that  I  wonder  whether  they  were  not  a 
concession  to  the  wish  of  the  subscribers.  Figures 
again  adorn  the  pedestal  of  the  Garfield  monu- 
ment in  Washington,  and  among  them  is  to  be 
found  a  most  successful  treatment  of  the  nude, 
"The  Student"  is  an  admirable  example  of 
Ward's  knowledge  of  form  and  of  his  discretion 
in  rendering  it.  His  ability  as  a  decorative 
sculptor  was  shown  in  the  group  of  "Sea-horses 
and  Victory"  which  crowned  the  temporary 
Naval  Arch  in  1899,  though  executed  many 
years  before.  Equally  pronounced  were  the 
joyous  elevation  of  the  forms  against  the  sky  and 
the  harmonious  imity  of  the  whole  as  a  mass. 
It  proved  that  Ward's  management  of  composition 
was  as  thorough  in  a  complicated  group  as  in  a 
single  figure.  He  is  now  engaged  upon  the 
pediment  for  the  recently  erected  Stock  Exchange 
Building  in  New  York.  As  I  have  seen  only  the 
model — and  that  has  been  subjected  to  various 
modifications — it  would  be  premature  to  discuss 
it.  But  it  bids  fair  to  be  a  most  memorable 
work,  fitly  crowning  by  its  magnitude  and 
importance  a  long  and  honourable  career. 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH 


IV 

DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH 

A  MONG  the  earlier  works  of  Daniel  C. 
French  is  a  bust  of  Emerson,  a  truly 
admirable  rendering  of  the  mingled  nobility  and 
sweetness  of  the  well-known  face,  of  the  human 
kindliness  which  warmed  the  pure  and  abstract 
elevation  of  his  mind.  It  reminds  us  that  in 
his  youth  French  enjoyed  acquaintance  with  the 
philosopher  of  Concord  and  came  tmder  the 
influence  of  other  famous  spirits  who  formed  the 
little  group  of  high  thinkers  and  plain  livers, 
with  whom  it  was  also  an  axiom,  of  more  than 
incidental  importance,  that  Americans  should 
shake  their  minds  free  of  the  European  point  of 
view  and  develop  a  cidture  for  themselves  out 
of  the  genius  of  their  own  conditions. 

French,  himself  of  New  England  stock,  bom 
at  Exeter,  New  Hampshire,  in  1850,  came  under 
these  influences  at  the  impressionable  age  of 
eighteen,  when  he  began  to  model  tmder  the 
instruction  of  a  member  of  the  Alcott  family, 

55 


56  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  head  of  which,  Amos  Bronson,  had  been  one 
of  the  leading  writers  in  The  Dial.  Moreover, 
his  own  nature,  one  may  suspect,  furnished 
congenial  soil  for  the  germination  of  the  seeds 
which  it  received  during  this  time,  since  the 
fruit  of  his  maturity  savours  immistakably  of 
these  conditions.  And  this,  notwithstanding  that 
he  spent  many  subsequent  years  in  Florence, 
where  his  master  was  Thomas  Ball,  a  blithe, 
sweet  nature,  gentle,  refined,  and  full  of  bon- 
homie. Here  again  was  a  continuance  of,  at 
least,  the  gracious  influences  which  had  surrounded 
French's  growth  from  the  beginning,  and  it  was 
in  the  light  of  these  that  he  sucked  in  nourishment 
from  the  environment  of  Florence.  To  judge 
by  the  tenor  of  his  afterwork,  the  treasures  of 
the  city  did  not  affect  him  very  directly;  here 
and  there  we  may  find  a  hint  of  assimilated  style, 
notably  in  the  angels  for  the  Clark  monument  in 
the  Forest  Hills  Cemetery ;  but  for  the  most  part, 
apparently,  the  impressions  of  these  days  served 
to  give  artistic  indorsement  to  the  gracious 
elevation  of  the  earlier  literary  ones.  Even  the 
work  upon  which  he  engaged  himself  at  that  time, 
a  statue  of  "Endymion, "  was  a  following  of 
the  Canova  tradition,  still  lingering  in  Italy, 
rather  than  of  the  beckonings  of  the  older  art, 
and  chiefly  characteristic  of  himself  by  reason 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  57 

of  the  calm,  passionless  purity  of  the  emotion 
involved. 

The  degree  and  quality  of  emotion  which 
enters  into  an  artist's  work  must  constitute  one 
of  the  most  important  elements  in  his  art  and 
will  even  affect  that  other  essential  element, 
the  character  of  his  technique.  How  his  work 
will  affect  ourselves  will  largely  depend  upon 
the  extent  to  which  we  respond,  either  by  nature 
or  by  a  habit  of  cultivation,  to  the  particular 
kind  of  emotion  which  he  portrays.  On  the 
other  hand,  a  great  number  of  people  seem  unable 
to  appreciate  the  emotional  quality  in  a  work 
of  art  and  look  only  for  the  intellectual,  while 
more  than  a  few  artists  display  little  or  nothing 
of  the  latter  quality  and  exaggerate  the  sensuous. 
Especially  are  they  apt  to  limit  the  range  of 
the  emotions  to  one  kind,  that  of  love,  and  to 
regard  it  exclusively  in  its  sexual  manifestation. 
In  this  way  the  word  passion,  with  its  deep 
significance  of  an  emotion  so  strong  as  to  bring 
suffering,  has  been  belittled.  Some  art  is  the 
product  of  this  nobler  kind  of  passion,  a  good 
deal  is  only  a  tiresome  reiteration  of  the  lower 
kind,  and,  again,  there  is  art  which  emanates 
from  a  tranquillity  of  spirit  imdisturbed  by  either 
kind  of  passion.  It  is  in  this  last  category  that 
French's  art  seems  to  belong. 


58  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

My  own  appreciation  of  it  recalls  the  memory 
of  a  certain  mountain  pool.  I  had  made  an 
early  start  on  a  stmimer's  day,  rising  in  the 
cheerless  glimmer  before  the  dawn  and  spending 
some  two  hoiirs  as  one  of  many  sleepy  passengers 
in  a  stuffy  train.  Alighting  at  a  drowsy  little 
town,  where  small  farmers  congregate  to  pursue 
their  petty  barterings,  I  began  the  ascent  by  a 
bridle  path,  steep,  stony  and  dusty,  winding 
frequently  as  it  steadily  mounted.  By  noon 
I  had  reached  an  elevation  midway  between  the 
last  belt  of  trees  and  the  snow-line  and  could 
look  down  upon  the  cloud-mists  that  clung  like 
patches  of  wool  to  the  forest,  and  farther  down 
to  the  green  bowl  of  the  valley,  with  its  flashes 
of  river  and  thin  spirals  of  gray  smoke.  Above 
me  was  a  more  ventiiresome  climb,  to  have 
accomplished  which  would  have  entailed  stouter 
endurance  and  more  painful  effort,  crowned,  it 
may  be,  with  a  keener,  fiercer  exaltation.  But, 
as  it  was  I  felt  exalted.  The  spacious  prospect, 
the  crystalline  purity  of  the  air,  a  labour  that 
had  fully  taxed  my  natural  strength,  combined 
to  produce  a  condition  of  most  perfect  spiritual 
exhilaration,  stealing  over  me  so  unconsciously 
as  at  last  to  be  realised  with  surprise.  The 
memory  of  it  represents  to  me  the  clearest 
comprehension    of    passionless    emotion   and    of 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  59 

the  mental  atmosphere  in  which  a  work  of  art 
that  has  not  been  conceived  in  the  throes  of 
passion  may  spring  forth  and  be  matured. 

Full  to  the  brim  of  this  sensuous  elation,  I 
wandered  from  the  path  and  found  myself  beside 
a  pool  that  caught  within  its  deep  hollow  some- 
thing of  the  sky's  blue  and  the  glint  of  a  passing 
cloud;  otherwise  mirroring  only  the  surrounding 
banks  and  my  own  figure,  bending  over  to  peer 
through  the  cold,  clear  water  to  the  bottom. 
Quite  near  it  was  to  the  dusty,  beaten  track, 
yet  secluded,  cradled  within  its  own  niche  of  the 
great  mountain,  placidly  exhaling  its  water  to 
the  sky,  whence  it  was  in  turn  to  receive  its 
sustenance.  Again  I  am  helped  to  understand 
the  beautiful  reasonableness  of  art;  although  it 
may  not  be  of  the  kind  which  mirrors  the  wide 
experiences  of  life,  holds  within  it  the  mystery 
of  impenetrable  depth,  or  stirs  the  soul  to  loftiest 
heights  of  sensuous  and  intellectual  compre- 
hension. For,  if  the  artist  sets  his  art  at  the 
highest  spot  that  his  powers  permit,  keeps  it 
secluded  from  the  passing  traffic  of  the  world, 
unsullied,  fresh,  that  it  may  give  clear  reflection 
to  the  figures  of  the  imagination  which,  in  the 
calm  elation  of  this  upper  air,  he  brings  to  its 
margin,  then  he  has  done  something  for  which  the 
world  is  infinitely  better. 


6o  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

It  is  an  art  of  this  kind  which  French,  if  I 
mistake  not,  represents — elevated,  but  passion- 
less; always  true  to  its  noblest  and  sweetest 
promptings;  mingling  intellectual  grace  with  the 
graciousness  of  pure  emotion. 

His  first  statue  was  the  "  Minute  Man, "  erected 
on  the  old  battle-field  at  Concord  in  1875.  The 
young  farmer  is  standing  with  one  hand  upon 
the  plow  and  in  the  other  grasping  a  musket, 
his  head  alert,  as  if  he  were  waiting  for  a  summons, 
the  body  held  ready  to  advance.  Though  a 
work  of  immaturity  and  giving  little  promise 
of  its  author's  subsequent  accomplishment,  it 
yet  has  something  of  the  sweet  uplifting  of 
sentiment  that  will  reappear  later  with  more 
assurance  of  conviction  and  with  maturer  technical 
expression.  The  next  important  work  was  the 
seated  figure  of  John  Harvard,  imveiled  at 
Cambridge  in  1884.  During  that  interval  of 
nine  years  French  had  made  extraordinary 
progress.  Whether  we  consider  the  conception 
of  the  personality  or  the  character  of  the  tech- 
nique, this  statue  is  the  work  of  a  man  who  has 
attained  to  a  realization  of  his  true  bent  and  to 
a  freedom  and  force  of  craftsmanship.  The 
dignity  of  quietude,  a  self-contained  aloofness, 
the  tender  graciousness  of  a  refined  spirit,  a 
gentle,  unforced  sincerity — these  are  the  qualities 


DEATH    AND   THE   SCULPTOR 

By  Daniel  Chester  French 

Ftora  ihc  Milmore  Monumrnt,  Forest  Hills  Cemetery,  Boston 


DETAIL   OF   THE    CLARK    MONUMENT 
By  Daniel   Chester  French 


Forest  Hills  Cemetery 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  6i 

in  himself  which  the  sculptor  has  imparted  to 
this  figure.  He  has  represented  in  it  the  fine 
flower  of  Puritan  scholarship  and  devotion  to 
the  higher  claims  of  humanity.  It  is  impossible 
not  to  detect  in  this  characterisation  an  echo  of 
the  sculptor's  own  early  memories,  and  more  or 
less  they  abide  with  him  up  to  the  present  time. 
In  correspondence  with  the  development  of  his 
own  ideals  is  that  of  his  technique.  It  has 
acquired  a  breadth  and  unity  of  feeling,  a  regard 
for  the  mass  and  a  tact  of  choice  in  the  selection 
of  details,  a  mingling  of  suavity  and  monumental 
stability,  a  disposition  of  the  drapery,  natural 
and  yet  enriched  with  elegant  surprises.  The 
statue  is  at  once  imposing  and  full  of  grace. 

During  the  next  decade  French  had  opporttmi- 
ties  for  developing  the  imaginative  tendencies 
which  had  already  shown  themselves  during  his 
student  days.  The  chief  works  of  this  period 
are  the  "Gallaudet  Memorial"  in  Washington, 
District  of  Columbia,  the  Milmore  monument 
in  Forest  Hills  Cemetery,  better  known  as 
"Death  and  the  Sculptor,"  the  "John  Boyle 
O'Reilley  Memorial,"  and  the  "Statue  of  the 
Republic"  at  the  Chicago  Exposition.  The 
"Gallaudet"  represents  the  great  teacher  of  deaf 
and  dimib  mutes  in  the  act  of  instructing  his 
first  pupil.     He   has   his  arm  arotmd   the   girl, 


62  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

and  each  raises  a  hand  to  fashion  the  silent  talk, 
while  they  gaze  into  each  other's  faces  in  the 
rapt  effort  of  mutual  comprehension.  The  group 
is  thus  realistic  in  its  conception,  but  developed 
with  a  degree  of  sympathy  that  passes  into  lovely 
imaginativeness  as  the  sculptor  penetrates  the 
mystery  of  communication  between  these  two 
creatures.  Purely  imaginative,  however,  is  the 
following  work:  The  untimely  death  of  the 
sculptor,  Martin  Milmore,  is  here  commemorated 
by  an  allegory  of  Death  arresting  the  hand  of  a 
sculptor  as  he  is  engaged  in  perfecting  his  work. 
He  is  scarcely  more  than  a  youth,  well-knit  and 
lithe  in  figure,  with  a  sweet  seriousness  of  face; 
and  as  he  plies  the  mallet  and  chisel,  carving 
anew  at  the  world-old  problem  of  the  Sphinx, 
putting  forth  his  brave  young  strength  in  pursuit 
of  a  yet  imdimmed  ideal,  a  gentle  touch  inter- 
poses between  his  hand  and  work.  He  turns  his 
head  from  the  enigma  to  face  the  reality  of  a 
Presence — a  female  figure,  her  head  tenderly 
bowed  in  the  shadowed  obscurity  of  a  heavy 
veil,  mighty  wings  calmly  folded  at  her  back,  a 
bimch  of  poppies  in  her  grasp.  The  youth  has 
not  yet  comprehended  who  and  what  she  is, 
only  the  ineffable  sadness  of  her  face  rivets  his 
questioning  gaze.  He  is  face  to  face  with  another 
enigma — that  of  Death. 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  63 

This  memorial  has  won  more  admirers  than 
perhaps  any  other  of  the  sculptor's  works,  and 
the  reason  is  not  far  to  seek.  The  allegory- 
conveys  a  human  story  with  such  precision  and 
tender  sincerity  that  all  can  read  it  and  few  can 
fail  to  be  affected.  Moreover,  the  story  is  told 
with  artistic  propriety,  the  character  of  the 
memorial  being  sculpturesque.  The  dignity  of 
form  in  the  round  has  been  boldly  asserted;  the 
device  of  clothing  the  youth's  figure  in  a  tightly 
fitting  suit  permits  a  contrast  of  vigorous,  clean- 
cut  form  with  the  drowsy,  sensuous  suggestion 
of  the  sweeps  and  folds  of  drapery  on  the  other 
figure,  and  these  again  are  relieved  by  the  strong, 
simple  modelling  of  the  wings.  Moreover,  the 
varied  emphasis  of  these  figures  in  the  round, 
placed  against  the  quiet,  smooth  levels  of  low- 
relief  in  the  backgroimd,  results  in  a  colour- 
scheme  of  striking  handsomeness;  the  gradations 
from  dark  to  light  mingling  richness  and  delicacy 
of  tone,  while  the  passages  are  distributed  with 
such  variety  of  bold  and  subtle  contrasts  as  to 
be  exceptionally  decorative.  And  it  is  by  these 
devices,  as  well  as  by  the  action  of  the  two  figures 
and  the  expression  of  their  faces,  that  the  senti- 
ment of  the  subject  is  conveyed. 

The  quality  of  the  sentiment  in  this  particular 
group  is  fairly  characteristic  of  French's  range 


64  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

of  emotional  expression.  It  has  more  of  elevation 
than  of  breadth  and  depth.  Not  that  it  is  lacking 
in  either  candour  or  sincerity,  but,  like  Truth 
at  the  bottom  of  the  well,  it  exists  in  a  cool,  clear, 
undisturbed  element,  its  gaze  concentrated  on 
the  circle  of  sky  above,  a  glimpse  of  abstract 
inspiration,  checkered  by  the  occasional  passage 
of  a  bird  or  by  some  wayfarer's  shadow.  Sepa- 
rated from  the  tiirmoil  of  hiiman  passion  it 
touches  the  theme  of  humanity  with  a  gracious 
tenderness  that  leans  toward  an  elegant  ideali- 
sation and  to  an  attitude  of  feeling  that  is  far 
less  human  than  artistic.  I  would  cite,  as  an 
illustration  of  what  I  am  trying  to  express,  the 
fact  that  Death  has  been  symbolised  by  a  woman 
of  noble  and  inviting  mien,  whose  arms  might 
fold  themselves  around  the  young  sculptor's 
form  as  with  a  mother's  caress,  while  she  pressed 
the  poppies  on  his  brow  and  wooed  him  to  eternal 
sleep.  It  is  a  beautiful  idea,  which  touches  our 
fancy,  but  not  the  heart  that  has  experienced 
the  pain  of  loss;  and  in  its  lyrical  melodiousness 
we  miss  the  snapping  discord  that  would  hint  at 
the  tragedy  of  a  career  of  promise  abruptly  cut. 
Similarly,  a  delicate  fancy  rather  than  imagina- 
tion pervades  the  monument  erected  to  the 
memory  of  the  poet  O'Reilley.  This  group  of 
three  figures  may  be  felt  also  to  establish  a  doubt, 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  65 

aroused  by  the  previous  work,  as  to  whether  the 
sculptor  is  fortunate  in  the  treatment  of  a  com- 
position which  involves  more  than  one  figure. 
Neither  of  them  is  conspicuous  for  organic  imity 
or  for  relational  value  in  the  parts.  It  is,  indeed, 
in  the  management  of  a  single  figure  that  French 
produces  the  most  complete  ensemble.  Among 
these  the  colossal  "Statue  of  the  Repubhc" 
at  the  Chicago  Exposition  marks,  if  I  mistake 
not,  a  turning-point  in  his  art.  Here,  for  the 
first  time,  his  matured  powers  came  into  direct 
contact  with  the  influence  of  architecture. 

Hitherto  his  imagination  had  played  around 
the  subject  represented;  now  it  became  absorbed 
in  the  architectonic  significance  of  the  statue 
itself,  as  a  feature  of  isolated  and  conspicuous 
emphasis  in  a  great  scheme  of  monumental 
architecture.  Removed  from  the  surroimdings 
for  which  it  was  conceived,  the  "Republic"  is 
scarcely  beautiful,  the  contours  being  rigid,  the 
pose  monotonous;  yet  these  qualities  became  in 
its  appointed  place  the  very  source  of  its 
indubitable  stateliness;  of  its  value  as  a  focus- 
point  in  the  long  vista  of  the  Court  of  Honour 
and  as  an  expression  in  heroic  shape  of  the  dignity 
of  the  Republic. 

At  this  time  French  came  into  close  contact 
with  the  architect,  Charles  F.  McKim,  and  the 


66  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

intimacy  has  ripened  into  very  frequent  col- 
laboration, so  that,  although  he  has  executed 
other  commissions,  such  as  that  clever  character- 
study,  the  statue  of  Rufus  Choate,  and,  in 
cooperation  with  E.  C.  Potter,  a  spirited  and 
impressive  equestrian  statue  of  Washington, 
his  work  has  become  more  and  more  identified 
with  sculpture  in  its  relation  to  architecture. 
To  a  mind  like  his,  that  seems  always  to  have 
leaned  toward  the  abstract,  this  alliance  with  an 
art  so  free  from  direct  human  allusion  must  have 
followed  quite  naturally.  Yet  we  may  be  disposed 
to  regret  a  transition  which  has  in  a  measure,  if 
I  may  use  the  word,  dehumanised  his  art,  which 
broke  off  his  development  when  it  had  acquired 
a  charm  of  poetical  expression  not  too  usual  in 
this  country,  and  would  appear  to  have  curtailed 
the  freedom  and  individuality  of  his  manner. 
Certainly,  the  series  of  figures  for  the  Capitol 
at  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  lack  the  distinction  and  vital 
worthiness  of  some  of  his  earlier  work;  and  even 
the  latest  statue  of  "Alma  Mater,"  beautiful 
as  it  unquestionably  is,  I  can  hardly  feel 
belongs  among  his  best. 

In  the  centre  of  the  spacious  paved  court  that 
forms  the  southern  and  chief  approach  to  Columbia 
University,  at  the  foot  of  the  steps  which  lead 
up  to  the  library — one  of  McKim's  most  choice 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  67 

and  impressive  designs — she  sits  enthroned; 
clothed  in  a  loose  robe  and  college  gown,  a  volume 
open  on  her  knees,  the  arms  extending  upward 
from  the  elbows  which  rest  upon  the  chair,  one 
hand  holding  a  scepter,  the  other  open  with  a 
gesture  of  welcome.  The  face  is  of  a  familiar 
type  of  American  beauty,  corresponding  with 
the  very  modem  suggestion  of  the  whole  figure. 
Yet  the  sculptor  has  invested  the  head  with  an 
air  of  dispassionate  refinement  which  gives  it  a 
certain  aloofness;  scarcely  more,  however,  than 
the  self-possession,  consciously  unconscious,  with 
which  the  American  woman  can  carry  her  beauty. 
It  is  almost  as  if  one  of  them  had  mounted  the 
pedestal  and,  with  a  ready  wit  embracing  the 
situation,  were  enacting  the  part  of  patroness  to 
the  imiversity.  Every  student  will  love  her 
and  her  influence  will  be  altogether  one  of  sweet 
nobility ;  but  whether  he  will  receive  any  inspira- 
tion in  the  direction  of  the  highest  art  and 
scholarship  is  less  sure.  The  immediate 
fascination  of  the  statue  is  that  in  feeling  it  is 
thoroughly  modem  and  American;  and,  if  it  fails 
to  comprehend  the  complex  elements  drawn  from 
all  sources  and  times  which  mingle  in  our  highest 
civilisation,  it  is  precisely  because  it  is  limited 
in  character  to  the  local  and  contemporary. 
We  recall  that  French  in  his  youth  came  under 


68  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

the  influence  of  Emerson,  one  of  whose  tenets 
was,  as  far  as  possible,  to  ignore  European 
traditions,  and  to  draw  his  illustrations  from  the 
society  and  manners  of  the  United  States;  that 
French  himself  lived  some  time  in  Florence 
without  assimilating  its  influence  directly,  has 
habitually  confined  himself  to  rendering  types 
of  American  character  and  has  gradually  dis- 
covered for  himself  a  personal  form  of  technical 
expression.  To  this  personal  isolation  may  be 
traced  both  the  excellence  and  the  limitations 
of  his  technique. 

It  is  distinguished  by  a  pure  and  poignant 
serenity,  by  a  monumental  feeling  penetrated 
with  a  sort  of  gentle  sprightliness ;  for  the 
expression  which  he  puts  into  the  modelling  of 
the  limbs  can  scarcely  be  characterised  by  a 
word  of  more  sensitive  application.  In  his 
handling  of  an  arm  or  hand,  still  more  of  the 
articulation  of  a  wrist,  his  method  is  so  dis- 
passionate as  to  betray  little  fascination  in  the 
loveliness  of  form  and  movement.  In  this 
respect  his  technique,  as  compared  with  modem 
French  sculpture,  is  deficient  in  the  stylistic 
quality,  lacking  the  raciness  and  the  suggestive 
piquancy  of  craftsmanlike  precision.  As  to  the 
finer  quality,  that  of  style,  in  which  thought  is 
wedded  to  technique  in  a  \mion  choicely  appro- 


ALMA    MATER 

By  Daniel  Chester  French 

Columbia  University 


DANIEL  CHESTER  FRENCH  69 

priate,  indefinably  distinguished,  one  may  detect 
it  in  his  angels  for  the  Clark  monument,  par- 
ticularly in  the  treatment  of  the  head  and  wings. 
But  these  panels  are,  perhaps,  the  only  examples 
of  his  work  in  which  a  direct  influence  of  his 
sojourn  in  Florence  can  be  traced.  They  are 
imbued  with  the  spirit  of  the  Renaissance. 
When,  as  usually,  he  works  in  an  atmosphere 
circumscribed  by  local  considerations,  I  doubt 
if  we  shall  find  this  added  savour  of  style.  He 
handles  drapery  with  evident  delight,  but  scarcely 
with  an  independent  control  of  the  material. 
Having  arranged  it  upon  the  model  with  perfect 
taste,  he  copies  the  folds  and  volimies.  They 
seldom  display  that  touch  of  artistic  arbitrariness 
which  a  master  of  style  would  give  them,  com- 
pelling them  to  yield  to  the  precise  shade  of 
expression  demanded  by  the  subtle  imion  of 
his  hand  and  brain.  In  the  "Death  and  the 
Sculptor"  the  drapery  reaches  a  measure  of 
style,  but  scarcely  in  the  "Alma  Mater";  and 
this  is  precisely  one  of  the  reasons  of  the  suggestion 
that  a  woman  has  been  suddenly  metamorphosed 
into  a  statue.     The  drapery  is  not  idealised. 

Yet,  if  it  is  only  on  rare  occasions  that  French's 
work  evinces  style,  it  is  never  without  a  very 
rare  and  fine  distinction — the  impress  of  a  man 
who  reverences  his  art  and  has  yielded  her  the 


70  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

devotion  of  a  refined  and  elevated  spirit.  If  the 
localness  of  its  range  may  have  been  at  the 
expense  of  some  desirable  qualities,  it  has 
endeared  it  to  the  greater  number  of  people  and 
presented  an  invaluable  incentive  to  many  a 
yoimg  artist  to  seek  his  ideals  in  his  own  country. 
If  it  fails  to  touch  the  deeper  chords  of  human 
emotion,  it  is  always  purifying  and  uplifting. 
With  maturity  it  has  lost  nothing  of  its  original 
freshness,  and  has  had  an  abiding  influence  for 
good  upon  American  art  and  life. 


FREDERICK  MACMONNIES 


V 

FREDERICK  MACMONNIES 

PENETRATING  the  American  temperament 
is  a  strong  vein  of  boyishness,  alertness, 
elasticity  of  mind,  a  happy  disregard  of  difficulty 
and  a  buoyant  hopefulness;  a  predisposition  to 
hiimour  and  a  refusal,  except  in  really  serious 
matters,  to  take  life  seriously;  a  national  grace 
of  gaiety.  It  is  this  phase  of  Americanism  that 
is  reflected  in  the  sculpture  of  Frederick  Mac- 
monnies. 

He  is  himself  a  remarkable  example  of  maturity 
in  youth.  To-day,  in  this  year  1903,  he  is  but 
forty,  yet  in  variety  and  quality  the  work  accom- 
plished has  been  prodigious,  and  he  has  long  since 
reached  a  notable  eminence  both  at  home  and  in 
Paris.  The  latter  has  been  pretty  constantly 
his  place  of  sojoiu*n  since  1884,  and  he  has  proved 
himself  fully  in  touch  with  its  spirit,  at  least  with 
that  exhalation  of  elegant  materialism  which 
hovers  over  its  deeper  qualities.  For,  except  in 
the  statues  of  Nathan  Hale  and  James  S.  T. 
Stranahan,  and  possibly  in   his  "Shakespeare" 

73 


74  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

of  the  Congressional  Library,  Macmonnies  has 
shown  himself  more  alive  to  the  external  charm 
of  form  than  to  its  expression  of  imderlying 
qualities  of  deeper  significance. 

At  the  age  of  seventeen  he  had  the  good 
fortune  to  be  received  into  the  studio  of  Saint- 
Gaudens  as  an  apprentice-pupil,  where  he  worked 
for  some  four  years,  meanwhile  attending  the 
life  classes  at  the  Academy  of  Design  and  the 
Art  Students'  League.  Even  in  those  days  he 
developed  an  extraordinary  manual  skill,  and 
his  drawings  also  are  remembered  by  his  fellow- 
students  as  being  quite  unusually  graceful  and 
true.  He  had,  moreover,  the  privilege  of  working 
under  the  master,  at  the  time  of  his  greatest 
productivity,  when  his  studio  was  the  resort  of 
the  best  architects,  sculptors  and  painters;  so 
that  he  grew  up  under  the  most  favoured  conditions, 
corresponding  in  kind  to  those  experienced  by 
apprentices  of  the  fifteenth  century  in  the  bottegas 
of  the  Florentine  masters. 

Accordingly,  when  Macmonnies  went  to  Europe, 
in  1884,  his  experience  and  knowledge  were  far 
beyond  what  students  of  his  age  usually  possess. 
However,  the  first  visit  to  Paris  was  abruptly 
terminated  by  the  cholera,  before  which  he 
retreated  to  Munich,  and  for  some  months  studied 
painting.     Then  followed  a  tour  on  foot  over  the 


FREDERICK   MACMONNIES  75 

Alps,  when  a  summons  from  Saint-Gaudens 
recalled  him  home.  For  a  year  he  assisted  the 
master  and  then  returned  to  Pciris,  this  time 
entering  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts  and  studying 
under  Falguiere;  with  such  success  that  he 
twice  won  the  Prix  d'Atelier,  which  ranks  next 
to  the  Prix  de  Rome  and  is  the  highest  prize 
open  to  foreigners.  Then,  taking  a  studio  of 
his  own,  he  executed  his  first  statue,  a  "Diana," 
which  gained  an  Honourable  Mention  at  the 
Salon.  A  commission  for  three  angels  in  bronze 
for  the  Church  of  St.  Paul  in  New  York  was 
followed  in  1889  and  1890  by  orders  for  the 
Hale  and  Stranahan  statues,  for  the  latter 
of  which  he  received  a  Second  Medal  at  the 
Salon,  the  only  instance  of  an  American  sculptor 
being  thus  honoured.  After  executing  two  small 
fountain  designs,  for  which  he  modelled  a  "  Pan  of 
Rohallion"  and  a  "Faun  with  Heron,"  he  found 
himself  confronted  with  the  big  problem  of  the 
Columbia  fountain,  the  most  important  sculptural 
group  at  the  Chicago  Exposition.  Since  then, 
in  addition  to  many  statuettes,  medallions,  busts 
and  low-relief  portraits  he  has  accomplished 
such  notable  works  as  the  "Bacchante,"  the 
statue  of  Sir  Harry  Vane,  the  "Shakespeare," 
pediments  for  the  Bowery  Savings  Bank  and 
spandrils  for  the  Washington  Arch  in  New  York, 


76  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

a  quadriga  for  the  Soldiers'  and  Sailors'  Memorial 
Arch  in  Brooklyn  and  horse  groups  for  the 
entrance  to  Prospect  Park,  a  "Victory"  for  the 
battle  monument  at  West  Point  and  colossal 
groups  for  the  Indiana  State  Soldiers'  and  Sailors' 
Memorial  at  Indianapolis.  The  mere  enumera- 
tion of  this  incomplete  list  of  works,  representing 
a  period  that  scarcely  exceeds  ten  years,  testifies 
to  the  artist's  energy  and  inventiveness.  That 
such  an  exuberance  of  output  should  affect  the 
quality  of  his  work  was  almost  inevitable.  The 
precise  way  in  which  it  seems  to  have  done  so  is 
interesting,  in  relation  not  only  to  Macmonnies's 
career,  but  to  the  art  generally.  It  has,  indeed, 
a  reference  to  the  artist's  manner  of  using  his 
model,  to  the  degree  in  which  his  imagination 
maintains  a  control  over  or  succumbs  to  the  facts 
of  the  living  subject. 

It  is  true  the  model  will  frequently  suggest 
an  idea  to  the  artist.  Some  arrest  of  action, 
momentary  gesture,  or  the  movement  of  relaxa- 
tion, as  the  figure,  tired  with  posing,  extends 
itself,  will  supply  the  artist's  eye,  ever  on  the 
alert  for  impressions,  with  the  hint  of  a  motive 
which  his  imagination  will  develop  into  a  serious 
and  beautiful  work.  He  will  use  the  model  to 
build  up  the  structural  fabric  of  his  ideas,  and, 
if  need  be,  to  elaborate  the  facts,  but  unless  he 


$ 


By  fiiytnissioii  of  Theodoye  K.  Starr,  Neiv  York 


DIANA 
By  Frederick  Macmonnies 


By pennission  of  TlitoJore  J!.  Sf^iy.  .Vc-rv  )'.y?-A- 

BACCHANTE 
By   Frederick  Macmonnies 


FREDERICK   MACMONNIES  77 

can  modify  the  facts  of  the  figure  by  elimination 
or  accentuation  and  invest  his  rendering  of  them 
with  that  intangible  something  which  does  not  exist 
in  the  model,  but  in  the  impression  which  the  latter 
has  made  upon  his  imagination,  the  result  will 
scarcely  fail  to  bear  the  earmark  of  being  a  copy. 
Doubtless  the  artist  will  lessen  the  probability 
of  this,  indeed,  may  entirely  remove  it,  by  his 
absorption  in  the  technical  subtleties  of  obtaining 
an  illusion  of  actual  facts  out  of  his  inert  material ; 
but  this,  after  all,  is  one  of  the  active  forms  of 
his  artistic  imagination.  If  he  exercises  it  with 
enthusiasm  he  is  still  maintaining  his  ascendency 
over  the  objectivity  of  the  model.  This  is  the 
kind  of  realism  in  which  the  Japanese  carver 
indulges  on  his  sword  hilt.  The  facts  are  for  him 
merely  an  excuse  for  revelling  in  the  enjoyment 
of  his  skill — the  closer  his  rendering  of  them  the 
greater  his  triumph  over  the  medium — and  we 
ourselves  in  examining  his  work  lose  cognisance 
of  the  facts  in  our  wonder  at  the  skill  of  crafts- 
manship. 

This  is  a  very  different  kind  of  realism  from 
that  exhibited  in  the  statue  which  crowned  the 
principal  entrance  of  the  recent  Paris  Exposition. 
The  figure  presumably  was  to  sjmibolise  modem 
Paris.  Perhaps  it  was  in  a  spirit  of  mischief, 
certainly  without  much  sense  of  humour  and 


78;  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

with  no  imagination,  that  the  sculptor  sought  his 
model  in  a  well-known  magazin  des  modes, 
selecting  the  most  famous  of  the  yoimg  ladies, 
on  whose  beautiful  figure  the  mantles  and  cloaks 
are  set,  that  the  patronesses  of  the  establishment 
may  see  by  a  supreme  effort  of  the  imagination 
how  they  will  set  upon  themselves.  He  repre- 
sented her  in  a  costume  a  la  mode.  The  statue 
stood  against  the  sky,  a  monument  of  common- 
place, trivial  and  ridiculous. 

But,  without  going  to  any  such  lengths  in 
demeaning  his  imagination,  the  artist  may  still 
allow  it  to  become  hypnotised  by  his  model.  I 
was  very  much  struck  by  the  remark  of  a  painter, 
whose  nudes  are  exquisitely  pure  and  poetical 
in  type,  that  it  was  his  habit  as  soon  as  he  had 
secured  the  facts  of  the  figure  to  discontinue  the 
model,  since  he  foimd  that  otherwise  he  was  apt 
to  become  possessed  by  it.  And  is  it  not  a  fact 
that  in  very  many  statues  and  pictures  one 
detects  the  evidence  of  this  possession?  Is  it 
absent  in  Macmonnies's  later  work? 

The  earlier  is  alive  with  spontaneous,  creative 
energy,  which  shows  itself  most  characteristically 
in  works  like  the  "Cupid  on  Ball,"  "Boy  with 
Heron,"  and  the  "Diana."  The  last  has  been 
criticised  for  being  "nervous  and  strained"  in 
manner.     Not   quite  justly,   perhaps,   since   the 


FREDERICK  MACMONNIES  79 

long,  lean  limbs  are  precisely  those  of  one  accus- 
tomed to  swift  movement;  the  movement  in  this 
case  is  free  and  elastic,  and  the  whole  gesture  of 
the  body  expressive  of  keen  and  practiced  energy ; 
no  antique  type,  it  is  true,  but  its  modem  anti- 
thesis, the  girl  whose  graceful  lines  have  been 
stnmg  and  whose  grace  of  action  liberated  by 
physical  activities.  The  figure  has  the  buoyancy 
and  poise  of  mass  and  charm  of  living  lines  which 
distinguish  the  work  of  Macmonnies  as  much  as 
the  actual  beauty  of  modelling.  These  traits 
reappear  in  a  most  fascinating  way  in  the  artless 
grace  of  the  "Cupid,"  boimding  along  with  head 
and  shoulders  thrown  back,  as  he  discharges 
an  arrow  behind  him.  The  action  of  the  body 
is  quick  with  naturalness,  and  yet  the  disposition 
of  every  part,  even  to  such  a  detail  as  the  fingers, 
reveals  the  shrewd  arrangement  of  a  choicely 
refined  taste — an  instinctive  taste,  operating 
almost  tmconsciously,  with  a  frank,  boyish  impul- 
siveness, high  spirited  and  not  without  a  spice  of 
mischievous  humour.  For  note  the  redoubtable 
struggle  between  the  "Boy  with  Heron";  the 
yoimgster  planted  firmly  and  putting  forth  his 
strength  so  stubbornly,  the  bird  thrashing  the 
air  with  its  wings  and  writhing  its  body  angrily. 
How  will  it  end  ?  Is  it  only  a  tumble  of  sport,  or 
will  the  young  creature  of  the  earth  not  let  go 


8o  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

until  the  creature  of  the  air  is  subdued,  perhaps 
maimed,  killed?  Or,  again,  in  the  "Pan  of 
Rohallion"  the  boy  stands  upon  a  ball  supported 
by  miniature  dolphins,  which  spout  their  streams 
of  water  and  look  up  as  if  listening,  while  he  blows 
the  two  reeds  that  issue  at  a  broad  angle  from  his 
impish  mouth,  leaning  back  to  inflate  his  chest 
imtil  his  body  describes  an  arc.  It  is  the  attitude 
of  a  saucy  child  that  has  taken  the  measure  of 
its  little  self  from  the  affectionate  indulgence 
that  surroimds  it;  again,  not  an  antique  type, 
nor  rustically  impish  like  a  Puck,  but  with  the 
engaging  elegance  and  self-conscious  roguery  of  a 
certain  kind  of  modem  urchin. 

Yes,  modernity  is  the  key  to  which  all  Mac- 
monnies's  work  is  pitched ;  an  echo  not  of  the 
modem  mind,  but  of  the  modem  temperament. 
So  we  may  be  disposed  to  prefer  the  earlier  ones, 
while  his  temperament  was  still  fresh  and  frank 
and  exuberant  with  the  insouciance  of  youth. 
Later  on  the  exuberance  is  at  once  more  conscious 
and  less  spontaneous.  In  the  "Diana"  there 
was  an  aboimding  healthfulness  of  liberated 
energy;  in  the  "Bacchante"  a  suggestion  of 
energy,  reenforced  with  champagne.  Truly,  this 
is  not  an  inapt  suggestion  for  a  bacchante  to 
make ;  but  we  are  a  long  way  from  the  anthropo- 
morphic tendency  of  the  antique  mind  which 


FREDERICK  MACMONNIES  8i 

personified  the  power  of  wine  in  its  social  and 
beneficent  aspects,  and  saw  in  Bacchus  the  god 
of  civilisation  and  in  his  devotees  the  frenzy  of 
divine  inspiration.  Moreover,  there  is  no  sugges- 
tion of  this  in  the  statue.  The  figure  is  of  modem 
type,  rendered  with  undisguised  naturalness. 
After  being  declined  by  the  trustees  of  the  Boston 
Public  Library,  it  is  now  in  the  Metropolitan 
Museum,  where  among  the  variety  of  impressions 
it  loses  its  startling  emphasis  and  takes  its  place 
naturally  as  one  of  the  cleverest  pieces  of  modem 
sculpture.  For  of  its  exceeding  cleverness  there 
can  be  no  doubt.  The  action  is  such  as  no  model 
could  maintain  in  its  vivacity  for  more  than  a 
moment;  the  artist  has  seized  it  in  all  its  flow 
and  suppleness  of  movement  and  held  it  in  his 
imagination  to  the  finish.  It  is  a  statue  which 
we  can  almost  accept  as  an  example  of  the 
predominance  of  technique  over  the  facts  of  the 
living  model,  except  for  a  certain  look-at-me- 
ishness  which  seems  to  result  from  the  artist's 
consciousness  that  his  problem  was  a  daring 
exhibition  of  skill.  There  is  just  a  little  too  much 
protestation  of  skill  in  the  whole  conception, 
just  as  there  is  too  much  protestation  of  hilarity 
in  the  girl's  face.  Her  gaiety  is  hysterical,  the 
composition  lacking  in  artistic  sanity. 

Both   the    Nathan  Hale   and   the    Stranahan 


82  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

statues  were  completed  when  the  artist  was  only 
twenty-eight  years  of  age.  The  former,  since 
no  portrait  of  Hale  exists,  is  an  effort  of  imagina- 
tion, the  latter  of  observation  and  by  far  the 
finer  work.  For,  while  Macmonnies  is  gifted 
with  a  very  delightful  imaginativeness,  he  has 
not  so  far  shown  himself  possessed  of  the  deeper 
quaHties  of  imagination.  The  Hale  scarcely  rises 
above  a  graceful  and  touching  sentimentality; 
there  is  a  point-device  nicety  in  the  carriage  of 
the  figure ;  it  stands  well  upon  its  feet,  but  with 
an  air  of  debonair  primness  and  too  conscious 
rectitude.  The  point  of  view  is  a  little  imma- 
ture.  In  the  Stranahan,  however,  the  frankness  of 
youth  has  helped  the  artist.  He  had  seen  many 
a  sculptor  go  down  before  the  difficulty  of  a 
figure  in  modem  civilian  garb,  but  he  had  also 
seen  his  master,  Saint-Gaudens,  triimiph  over  it 
in  his  "  Lincoln."  So,  as  a  boy  to  prove  he  is  not 
afraid,  grasps  the  nettle  tightly  and  is  not  stimg, 
Macmonnies  grasped  his  problem  and  succeeded. 
He  contrives  no  ingenious  arrangement  nor 
extenuates  any  detail  of  the  cost\mie,  but  actually 
makes  it  interesting  by  the  charming  handling  of 
the  masses  and  textures.  With  equal  directness 
he  has  represented  the  character  of  the  figure: 
stable,  composed,  yet  animated,  while  to  the 
observation  of  the  head  he  has  brought  a  sym- 


FREDERICK  MACMONNIES  83 

pathetic  and  reverent  study,  which  results  in  a 
singular  nobility  and  sweetness  of  expression. 
The  statue,  in  fact,  has  a  very  considerable 
measure  of  monumental  dignity,  is  full  of  vitality 
and  touched  all  over  with  fineness  of  hiiman 
and  artistic  feeling. 

Full  of  vitality  also,  and  of  artistic  feeling 
is  the  "Sir  Harry  Vane"  in  the  Boston  Library. 
The  costimie,  a  beaver  with  rolled  brim  and 
plume,  doublet  and  cloak,  and  breeches  tucked 
into  riding-boots,  offered  opportimities  of  pictur- 
esqueness  of  which  Macmonnies  has  taken  full 
advantage.  The  gesture,  too,  as  the  figure 
stands  firmly  with  one  leg  advanced,  drawing  on 
a  glove,  is  manly  and  of  winning  courtliness. 
Indeed,  the  elegance  may  be  felt  to  be  in  excess ; 
the  conception  of  the  personality  being  scarcely 
more  than  that  of  a  fine  gentleman  engaged  in 
the  imimportant  occupation  of  putting  on  his 
gloves.  The  costume  also  plays  a  conspicuous  share 
in  the  statue  of  "Shakespeare"  at  Washington. 
The  doublet,  trunks  and  surcoat  are  stiff  with 
embroidery,  most  cimningly  modelled,  and  the 
set  of  the  silk  hose  upon  the  strong,  shapely 
legs  is  admirable.  The  head,  too,  is  admirably 
constructed,  the  bony  portions  having  been 
copied  from  the  bust  in  Stratf ord-on-Avon  Church 
and  the  features  from  the  Droeshout  portrait, 


84  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

commended  by  Jonson  for  its  fidelity.  Thus 
the  external  facts  have  been  very  conscientiously 
compiled,  and  edited  with  much  mastery  of 
craftsmanship;  but  the  soul  of  the  facts,  the 
inspired  poet  inside  them,  is  scarcely  suggested. 
The  statue  illustrates  again  that  Macmonnies  does 
not  display  imagination;  that  he  only  approxi- 
mates to  it  with  a  certain  charm  of  imaginative- 
ness, finding  fittest  expression  in  subjects  of  a 
decorative  character,  of  which  the  very  beautiful 
central  doors  of  the  Library  of  Congress  remain 
the  most  successful  example. 

For  the  larger  compositions,  while  full  of  exu- 
berant invention  and  charm  of  detail,  lack  xmity 
and  dignity  of  ensemble.  The  best  of  them  was 
probably  the  short-lived  f oimtain  for  the  Court  of 
Honour  at  Chicago.  Its  central  feature,  the 
"Ship  of  the  Republic,"  presented  a  handsome 
silhouette,  whereas  the  quadriga  on  the  Brooklyn 
Arch,  when  viewed  from  the  back,  does  not. 
Considering  also  the  necessary  haste  involved  in 
the  preparation  of  the  foimtain,  it  was  a  fairly 
maintained  composition,  reasonably  balanced  and 
homogeneous.  In  spirit,  however,  it  represented 
the  verve  and  gaiety  which  the  Parisian  seeks  in 
exposition  sculpture,  and  scarcely  conformed  to 
the  graver,  more  monumental  character  of  the 
architectural  scheme  at  Chicago ;  while  the  natural- 


FREDERICK  MACMONNIES  85 

istic  rendering  of  a  Parisian  model  to  symbolise 
the  Republic,  presented  a  curious  and  not  imin- 
structive  contrast  to  French's  "Republic"  at 
the  other  end  of  the  basin. 

For  in  this  figure  Macmonnies  revealed  perhaps 
for  the  first  time,  certainly  in  most  marked 
manner,  his  tendency  to  lose  himself  in  the 
natural  facts  of  the  model.  Some  extenuation 
might  be  found  in  the  haste  with  which  the  work 
was  bound  to  be  completed ;  and  a  similar  insuffi- 
ciency of  time — as  commissions  piled  upon  him 
in  tmexampled  profusion — may  account  for  his 
subsequent  addiction  to  bare  naturalism.  Yet 
it  scarcely  excuses  it,  and  still  less  that  the  natural- 
ism should  take  a  grosser  form,  imtil  in  the  colossal 
groups  at  Indianapolis  it  reached  a  degree  of 
coarseness  in  the  female  figures  which  is  very 
far  indeed  from  the  exquisite  feeling  of  the 
artist's  early  work. 

In  the  freshness  of  his  youth  he  reflected  the 
national  grace  of  gaiety.  God  forbid  that  the 
grossness  of  type  and  orgy  of  action  displayed 
in  these  latter  groups  should  be  indicative  <rf 
an3rthing  American  I 


PAUL  WEYLAND  BARTLETT 


VI 

PAUL  WEYLAND  BARTLETT 

TN  the  Metropolitan  Museum  of  New  York  there 
is  a  group,  called  "The  Bohemian,"  which 
represents  a  man  leaning  over  a  yoimg  bear, 
endeavouring  by  voice  and  gesture  to  encourage 
it  to  antics.  The  attitude  and  play  of  move- 
ment are  very  true  to  life. 

One  knows  the  action  of  a  trained  bear  at  the 
end  of  its  keeper's  chain;  how  it  balances  from 
foot  to  foot,  moves  its  body  up  and  down  like  a 
huge,  slow  piston  rod,  while  its  head  turns  this 
way,  that  way,  keeping  rude  time  to  the  rhythm, 
half  chant,  half  howl,  of  the  man's  voice.  The 
latter  seemed  to  otir  childhood's  imagination 
to  have  some  affinity  with  the  bear ;  both  strange 
creatures  appearing  in  the  village,  whence  no 
one  knew;  performing  their  imcouth  antics, 
silent  but  for  the  man's  mournful,  monotonous 
dirge  or  an  occasional  burst  of  gibberish  as  he 
rattled  the  chain;  then  disappearing,  whither? 

In  the  posturing  of  the  man  in  this  group  we  can 
anticipate  what  will  be  the  movement  of  the 

89 


90  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

bear  when  it  is  trained,  and  feel  the  suggestion 
also  of  an  animal  kinship  between  them  and  of 
their  outcast,  vagrant  fellowship.  Not  only  is 
the  technique  sure  and  facile,  the  observation  of 
form  and  action  just,  but  the  conception  is  one 
in  which  imagination  has  played  a  distinct  part. 

It  is  an  early  work  of  Paul  Weyland  Bartlett, 
executed  shortly  after  he  had  studied  with 
Fr^miet.  One  may  fancy  that  he,  too,  had 
come  under  the  spell  of  these  strange  travelling 
companions,  and  the  absorbing  question  to  his 
boy's  mind  had  been:  How  was  the  bear 
taught?  Then,  in  after  years,  when  his  interest 
in  animals,  quickened  by  the  example  of  his 
master,  took  artistic  shape,  he  bethought  him  of 
his  old-time  wonder  and  set  himself  to  solve  it. 
However  that  may  be,  it  is  clear  that  Bartlett's 
preoccupation  in  the  subject  extended  beyond 
mere  deftness  of  craftsmanship,  and  that  in  some 
way  or  other  his  imagination  had  been  roused. 

I  urge  this  point  because  some  of  his  subse- 
quent works  might  lead  one  to  suppose  that  he 
is  lacking  in  imagination  and  absorbed  exclusively 
in  the  exercise  of  a  very  accomplished,  graceful 
and  refined  technique.  Thus  his  statue  of  "  Law ' ' 
in  the  rotunda  of  the  Library  of  Congress  at 
Washington  reveals  no  higher  conception  than 
that  of  a  refined  young  woman  in  classic  draperies, 


PAUL  WEYLAND   BARTLETT         91 

holding  a  scroll  and  resting  one  hand  upon  a 
table  of  the  law;  a  personification  entirely  super- 
ficial and  only  redeemed  from  mediocrity  by  the 
tactful  elegance  of  the  modelling. 

But,  while  he  was  engaged  on  this,  he  was 
pondering  another  statue  which  hit  his  interest 
closely.  The  artist  in  him  that  could  not  be 
aroused  to  enthusiasm  by  an  abstraction,  such 
as  "Law,"  awoke  to  the  personal  matter  of  por- 
traying the  greatest  master  of  his  own  craft.  His 
imagination  was  enlisted,  and  after  much  delay — 
for  his  conscience  was  very  tnily  involved  in  this 
work  and  he  had  an  ideal  that  to  his  utmost 
ability  he  would  reach  —  the  "Michelangelo" 
was  completed;  a  work  of  sincere  imagination; 
of  most  arresting  and  moving  appeal. 

Then  followed  a  commission  for  an  equestrian 
statue  of  Lafayette;  and,  after  making  the  pre- 
liminary sketch  for  it  in  New  York,  he  returned 
to  Paris  to  execute  it.  It  was  there,  too,  that  he 
had  conceived  and  executed  the  "Michelangelo"; 
but  with  this  "Lafayette"  his  imagination  again 
failed  him.  Through  lack  of  interest  in  the 
subject,  I  wonder,  or  lack  of  incentive  in  the 
environment,  or  lack  of  stability  in  himself? 
For  from  this  statue  which  stands  in  the  Place  du 
Carrousel,  a  gift  from  the  children  of  America, 
judged  at  least  from  the  full-sized  model  tem- 


93  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

porarily  erected  for  the  ceremony  of  presenta- 
tion in  1900,  one  receives  mainly  an  impression 
of  elegance.  An  elegance  certainly  monumental; 
raised  to  the  dignity  of  a  motive  and  incorporated 
into  a  fine  structure  of  form,  yet  a  little  bit  pre- 
tentious. It  is  as  if  the  sculptor  had  no  higher 
purpose  than  to  prove  his  capability  as  a  styKst. 
He  has  certainly  succeeded;  but  the  statue  is 
more  than  a  trifle  modish. 

Bartlett  had  no  need,  however,  to  protest  his  pos- 
session of  stylistic  qualities.  The  "Michelangelo" 
sufficiently  proclaimed  it,  rivalling  the  skill  of  tech- 
nique displayed  in  Macmonnies's  "Shakespeare  " 
in  the  same  rotimda,  and  displaying  even  greater 
accent  of  mastery,  since  it  is  the  expression  of  a 
more  forceful  and  imaginative  characterisation. 
It  is  worth  while  to  notice  how  keenly  the  sculptor 
has  anticipated  the  material  in  which  the  statue 
was  to  be  finished.  For,  while  marble  permits  a 
great  variety  of  surface  effects  and  delicate  con- 
trasts of  light  and  shade,  the  essential  suggestion 
of  bronze  is  its  hardness,  and  consequently  its 
special  capacity  is  to  express  structure  and  action, 
bone  and  muscle.  In  this ' ' Michelangelo  ' '  one  will 
find  no  superfluities  of  detail,  little  insistence 
upon  qualities  of  surface.  A  few  salient  lines  of 
planes,  with  incisive  depth  of  shade  here  and 
there,  suffice  for  the  drawing  of  the  figure.     The 


MICHELANGEIO 

By   Paul  Weyland  Bartlett 

Library  of  Congress,  Washington,  D.  C. 


PAUL  WEYLAND   BARTLETT         93 

main  concern  is  structural,  even  the  leather 
apron  playing  no  inconsiderable  part  in  the  strong, 
stalwart  frugality  of  the  whole  treatment. 

This  instinct  for  the  special  qualities  of  bronze 
has  led  Bartlett  to  make  experiments  in  what  is 
a  thoroughly  characteristic  method  of  securing 
surface  effect,  the  colouring  of  the  metal  with 
patina  of  various  kinds.  On  several  occasions 
he  has  exhibited  little  objects,  such  as  frogs  and 
turtles,  in  which  he  seemed  to  have  recovered 
some  of  the  secrets  of  Japanese  art,  so  rich  and 
varied  were  the  tones  of  red  and  brown  and  green, 
so  exquisite  the  silky  smoothness  of  the  not 
too  highly  polished  surface.  Compared  with 
the  crude  effects  of  commercial  pickling  the 
colour  and  texture  of  these  objects  was  a 
revelation. 

As  to  the  conception  of  character  in  the  "Michel- 
angelo," opinions  seem  to  differ,  some  finding 
it  deficient  in  suggestion;  as  if  any  statue  were 
likely  to  convey  to  our  imagination  the  full 
suggestion  of  the  master's  genius.  Such  can  only 
be  found  in  his  own  works.  For  myself,  I  find 
abundance  of  suggestion  in  the  rugged  grandeur 
of  the  head  (which  in  the  accompanjdng  illus- 
tration has  been  imfortunately  reduced  in  size) ; 
a  ruggedness,  scarred  by  time  and  spiritual 
conflict  with  the  fever  heat  of  supreme,  unsatis- 


94  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

fied  passion;  a  rugged,  mountain-like  head, 
with  deepset  eyes,  two  craters  communicating 
with  the  inner  volcanic  fire.  I  am  happy  in  the 
possession  of  a  cast  of  this  head,  have  lived  with 
it  several  years,  turned  to  it  constantly  with  a 
sense  of  being  strengthened  and  purified  thereby. 
I  find,  too,  in  the  figure  a  fair  amount  of 
correspondence  to  the  character  of  the  head. 
Structurally  it  is  strong  and  the  attitude  is  that 
of  a  man  completely  absorbed  in  the  thoughts 
that  occupy  his  brain.  Indeed,  one  of  the  most 
notable  things  in  the  composition  is  the  entire 
absence  of  any  suggestion  of  preconceived  pose; 
the  figure  stands  in  complete,  tinconscious  isola- 
tion. When  the  illusion  from  the  front  is  so 
satisfactory  it  is  with  repugnance  that  one  pries 
behind  the  scenes;  but  this  statue  in  its  position 
has  to  be  viewed  also  from  the  rear  and,  so 
viewed,  is  less  dignified.  The  coat,  fitting  trimly 
to  the  waist  and  finishing  in  a  stiff  skirt,  again 
with  a  hint  of  modishness,  belies  the  stern 
simplicity  of  the  front  view.  Some  smaller  motive 
has  here  intervened,  of  historical  accuracy  to  a 
little  period  of  costume,  quite  out  of  place  in 
one  who  belongs  to  all  subsequent  ages;  imrea- 
sonable,  too,  for  we  fancy  that  the  old  hewer  of 
marble  would  never  have  encumbered  himself 
with  such  sartorial  gear,  when,  as  here  represented. 


PAUL  WEYLAND   BARTLETT         95 

he  stood  with  chisel  in  hand  meditating  some 
great  conception. 

But  there  is  no  satisfaction  in  dwelling  on  this 
point.  The  happier  thought  is  that  a  sculptor, 
still  yoimg,  could  have  given  us  a  work  so  dis- 
tinguished in  technique,  of  so  sincere  and  strong 
appeal. 


HERBERT  ADAMS 


VII 

HERBERT  ADAMS 

npHE  delicately  refined  sentiment  of  Herbert 
''-  Adams,  product  of  a  naturally  sweet  and 
modest  temperament,  has  discovered  its  fittest 
expression  in  flowers  and  in  the  flower-like  forms 
of  women  and  children,  influenced  in  its  manner 
by  decorative  feeling.  For  he  seems  to  have 
the  instinct  that  leads  men  to  be  naturalists; 
of  the  kind  whose  gentle  mind  draws  them  into 
intimacy  with  nattire's  nurslings  and  frequently 
as  well  toward  very  tender  sympathy  with  what 
is  most  fresh  and  fragrant  in  himianity.  Such 
a  one  studies  and  loves  form,  but  less  for  its 
organic  and  structural  import  than  for  its  visible 
expression  of  the  spirit  with  which  his  imagination 
invests  it;  a  very  sensitive  kind  of  imagination, 
that  must  play  freely  or  suffer  some  impairment 
of  its  delicate  elasticity. 

From  his  earliest  years  Adams  had  desired  to 
be  a  sculptor.  He  came  of  an  old  family  of  good 
New  England  stock  and  was  bom  at  West 
Concord,  Vermont,  in  1858,  but  passed  his  boy- 

99 


loo  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

hood  in  ,Fitchbvirg,  Massachusetts.  A  general 
education  at  the  local  grammar  and  high  school 
was  supplemented  by  special  studies  at  the 
Worcester  Institute  of  Technology  and  the 
Massachusetts  Normal  Art  School.  Then  followed 
a  period  of  five  years  in  Paris,  where  he  studied 
under  Merci6,  the  pupil  of  Falgui^re.  Among 
the  many  sculptors  with  whom  he  came  in 
contact,  he  felt  most  strongly  the  influence  of 
these  two,  both  natives  of  Toulouse,  in  whose  art 
the  poetry  of  the  south  mingles  with  academic 
elegance  and  technical  perfection.  During  these 
years,  too,  he  studied  in  the  galleries  and  fre- 
quented the  Louvre,  not  only  for  the  sculpture, 
but  also  for  the  paintings. 

That  the  latter  shotild  have  attracted  him 
may  seem  at  first  sight  hardly  worth  mentioning ; 
since,  indeed,  no  student  of  art,  whatever  his 
metier  would  be  likely  to  escape  the  fascination 
of  the  paintings.  But  Adams  seems  to  have 
been  very  conscious  of  it  then,  and  to  look 
back  upon  it  now  as  one  of  the  distinct  influences 
of  his  student  days.  And  that  painting  had  an 
influence,  and  a  very  marked  one,  upon  his 
technique  and  motives  as  a  sculptor,  one  can 
scarcely  doubt.  His  early  work  shows  more  feeling 
for  the  harmonic  rendering  of  light  and  shade 
and  for  the  decorative  treatment  of  the  siuiace 


HERBERT  ADAMS  loi 

than  for  the  structure  and  character  of  the  form. 
It  reveals  also,  especially  in  his  busts,  that 
specialisation  of  sentiment,  limited  in  range, 
very  qtiietly  intense  in  kind,  tincttired  frequently 
with  enigmatic  suggestion,  which  is  so  often 
found  in  Italian  sculpture  and  painting  of  the 
fifteenth  century.  That  he  had  felt  that  influence 
has  occurred  to  many  observers  of  Adams's  work ; 
yet  it  was  not  until  five  years  ago  that  he  visited 
Italy.  Accordingly,  it  must  have  been  to  his 
studies  at  the  Louvre  that  he  owed  his  acquaint- 
ance with  Italian  art;  and  the  paintings  as  well 
as  the  sculpture,  perhaps  as  much  as  it,  must 
have  shaped  his  impressions.  And  the  work 
of  the  marble  sculptors  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
of  men  like  Mino  da  Fiesole  and  Maiano,  is 
strongly  pictorial  in  character,  frequently  with 
more  of  the  painter  quality  than  the  sculptor, 
with  great  regard  for  highly  finished  surfaces 
and  delicate  richness  of  light  and  shade.  They 
represented  the  higher  tendencies  of  the  thought 
of  their  time:  subtle  and  refined  and  elegantly 
Platonic.  To  some  corresponding  partiality  is 
apparently  due  the  inclination  of  Adams's  mind 
toward  this  particular  expression  of  sculpture. 
For,  while  sculpture  responds  to  the  most 
vigorous  conceptions  of  the  artist,  it  lends  itself 
also  to  the  most  sensitive  idealisation;  more  so 


I02  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

in  a  measure  than  painting,  since  the  absence 
of  the  realism  of  colour  makes  a  greater  demand 
upon  the  imagination  and  keeps  the  representation 
more  nearly  within  the  region  of  the  abstract. 

In  order  to  increase  the  sensitiveness  of  the 
idealisation  by  merging  it  in  the  vague,  the  refuge 
of  the  modem  world  from  the  too  exacting  claims 
of  the  actual,  Rodin  often  leaves  part  of  his 
statues  in  the  rough.  So  did  Michelangelo. 
But  the  Italian  mind  of  the  fifteenth  century, 
wedded  to  perfection  and  finish  as  an  essential 
of  its  creed,  carried  to  further  sensitiveness  the 
tactile  suggestion  of  the  marble  by  briaging  its 
surface  to  a  smoothness  of  polish  akin  to  that  of 
jade  or  ivory,  materials  which  are  of  peculiarly 
caressing  appeal  to  the  sense  of  touch.  The 
effect  was  also  heightened  by  the  use  of  colour. 

The  practice  of  colouring  sculpture  dates  back 
to  the  earliest  times  which  archeological  research 
has  been  able  to  embrace.  Contintiing  without 
interruption  to  the  present  times  in  Oriental 
coimtries,  it  was,  however,  abandoned  in  the 
West.  Yet  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  the  Gothic 
artists,  and  those  of  the  Italian  Renaissance  up 
to  the  sixteenth  century  resorted  to  it  freely. 
Then  the  practise,  for  some  reason,  fell  into 
disuse,  and  by  degrees  the  strong  prejudice 
against  it  resulted  in  forgetfulness  that  it  had 


HERBERT  ADAMS  103 

ever  existed  among  the  greatest  artists  of 
antiquity,  and  it  was  accepted  as  a  matter  of 
course  that  one  of  the  chief  beauties  of  a  marble 
statue  was  its  whiteness,  and  that  the  colouring 
of  a  statue  was  a  habit  only  of  barbarians.  But 
in  comparatively  recent  times  we  have  learned 
to  appreciate  the  use  of  colour  by  the  Indians, 
Chinese  and  Japanese  upon  their  statues  and  to 
understand  its  motive,  and  have  discovered,  as 
I  have  said,  that  the  practice  was  at  one  time 
universal.  Yet  even  now  the  prejudice  against 
it  continues.  Some  artists  object  to  it  because 
the  colour  tends  to  make  less  obvious  to  the  eye 
their  skilftd  nicety  of  technique,  while  among 
laymen  there  exists  a  very  general  misimder- 
standing  of  the  motive  in  using  colour. 

They  suppose  that  colotur  is  added  to  a  statue 
to  increase  its  resemblance  to  nature;  as,  indeed, 
would  seem  to  be  the  motive  in  the  cheap  images 
commercially  produced  for  chiu"ches.  But  the 
motive  of  the  best  artists  has  never  been  a  realistic 
one.  They  have  added  colour,  either  for 
decorative  purposes  or  to  enforce  the  idea  of  the 
statue,  the  meaning  that  was  uppermost  in  the 
artist's  mind  as  he  fashioned  it.  Thus  the 
statue  of  the  god  and  the  cella  in  which  it  stood 
were  brought  into  a  imity  of  effect  by  colouring 
both,   so   that   the   divine    presence    permeated 


104  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  shrine.  Or  it  might  be  that  the  latter  was 
dimly  lighted  and  the  greater  part  of  the  statue 
was  plimged  in  mysterious  obscurity,  when  the 
artist  would  gild  the  lips  and  eyes  that  the  benign 
smile  and  the  composure  of  the  glance  might 
shine  with  soft  conspicuousness  amid  the  gloom. 
In  both  these  examples  artistic  fitness  would 
regulate  the  use  of  colour  both  to  imify  the 
effect  and  to  enforce  the  idea.  So,  too,  in  the 
case  of  a  bust,  the  artist  may  feel  that  there  is 
an  expression  in  the  eyes  of  the  woman  whose 
portrait  he  is  modelling  or  latent  in  the  curve  of 
the  lips,  which  summarises  the  impression  of 
her  character  as  he  feels  it.  In  his  desire  to 
emphasise  the  idea  which  he  has  in  his  mind,  he 
will  resort  to  colour  in  the  eyes  or  lips;  he  may 
then  feel  the  need  of  balancing  notes  of  colour 
elsewhere,  as  in  the  shadows  of  the  hair  or  in  the 
fillet  which  binds  it  or  in  some  ornament  of 
jewelry;  and,  having  gone  so  far,  may  find  it 
desirable  to  complete  by  further  enrichments 
of  colour  the  general  decorative  feeling  that  has 
been  produced.  Very  probably  he  will  be 
influenced  in  his  use  of  colour  by  the  larger 
decorative  intention  of  making  the  bust  more 
conformable  to  its  place  in  a  room,  so  that  instead 
of  standing  out  in  cold  distinctness  it  may  merge 
into  the  warmth  of  surrounding  colour. 


PORTRAIT   BUSr 
H\    Herbert    Adams 


HERBERT  ADAMS  105 

Evidently  actuated  by  such  intentions,  Adams 
has  frequently  resorted  to  colour  in  portrait 
reliefs  and  busts,  with  so  choice  a  feeling  that 
they  have  a  quality  of  very  rare  distinction.  In 
one  case,  while  the  form  is  marble  of  a  pinkish, 
creamy  hue,  the  bodice  of  the  dress  and  full-puffed 
sleeves  are  carved  in  wood  of  a  pale-cedar  colour 
and  an  embroidered  band  across  the  bosom  is 
sprinkled  with  gems  of  lapis  lazuli  and  green. 
This  last  feature  is  handled  with  exquisite  finesse, 
while  the  character  of  the  rest  of  the  design  is 
large  and  simple.  Two  of  his  busts  are  illustrated 
here,  and  in  one  case  there  is  colour  treatment 
and  in  the  other  the  marble  has  been  left  in  its 
purity.  The  former  suffers  by  reproduction, 
since  the  photographic  process  has  altered  the 
relation  between  the  coloured  portions  and  the 
rest,  giving  a  sharpness  of  contrast  to  the  eyes 
and  mouth;  and  it  is  at  a  further  disadvantage, 
for  the  sake  of  comparison,  because  the  other 
is  an  exceptionally  fine  example  of  Adams's 
work.  A  portrait  of  the  artist's  wife  reveals 
an  intimacy  of  sympathetic  comprehension  and 
a  loving  reverence  of  expression  that  make  it  a 
quite  unusual  work.  It  is  pervaded  also  with 
an  exquisite  mystery  of  feeling,  as  of  something 
beyond  the  artist's  and  the  husband's  knowledge 
hidden  behind  the  veil  of  the  woman's  separate 


io6  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

existence,  but  a  mystery  the  quality  of  which 
his  knowledge  comprehends.  For  there  is 
mystery  also  in  the  face  of  the  other  bust,  but 
more  enigmatic;  only  a  partial  reading  of  the 
character  and  to  the  rest  no  clue.  While  the 
one  portrait  reveals  a  character  matured  and 
comprehensible,  notwithstanding  that  its  outlines 
merge  into  conjecture,  the  other  leaves  one 
guessing,  as  do  many  of  the  old  Florentine 
women's  portraits. 

The  **  Bust  of  the  Artist's  Wife"  in  its  melodious 
rendering  of  light  and  shade  illustrates  very 
pointedly  the  predominance  of  the  colour  or 
painter  feeling  over  the  sctdptural,  of  expression 
over  structure.  It  is  more  or  less  felt  in  all 
Adams's  busts,  and  is  very  noticeable  in  low  reliefs, 
such  as  the  "Hoyt  Memorial''  and  the  "Pratt 
Memorial "  tablets,  where  he  followed  his  own 
promptings.  But  when  he  works  in  cooperation 
with  an  architect,  the  latter's  influence  disturbs 
the  oneness  of  his  motive  and  draws  him  to 
considerations  of  the  architectonic  use  of  form, 
which  results  in  some  impairment  of  the 
expression. 

In  the  "Hoyt  Memorial"  two  angels,  floating 
in  the  air,  support  a  tablet  with  inscription. 
Emphasis  is  given  to  the  heads  and  arms  and,  in 
a  less  degree,  to  the  wings;  but  the  rest  of  the 


HERBERT  ADAMS  107 

fonn  is  indicated  little  more  than  is  necessary  to 
explain  the  arrangement  of  the  streaming  folds  of 
light  drapery.  The  result  is  a  delicate  pattern 
of  light  and  shade,  a  decoration  of  sweetly  refined 
imagination,  corresponding  with  the  gracious 
refinement  of  the  expression  in  the  faces.  A 
similar  appreciation  fits  the  "Pratt  Memorial 
Angel"  which  he  modelled  for  the  Baptist 
Emmanuel  Church  in  Brooklyn,  although  the 
figure  is  in  the  round.  In  the  "  Pratt  Memorial  " 
tablet,  executed  some  years  later,  Adams  reveals 
how  exquisitely  he  can  use  flower  forms  as  motive 
for  decoration.  The  design  forms  the  border 
of  a  long,  narrow  panel.  At  the  top  is  a  winged 
head,  symbolising  the  Angel  of  the  Resurrection, 
and  at  the  foot  a  head  without  wings,  representing 
the  Sleep  of  Death.  The  latter  is  enfolded  with 
poppy-flowers  and  leaves,  these  forms  being 
carried  up  the  sides  of  the  panel,  imtil  at  the 
middle  distance  they  become  interspersed  with 
lily-forms  which  finally  assert  themselves  at  the 
top.  The  modelHng  is  in  very  low  relief  with  the 
exception  of  the  heads,  to  the  lower  of  which  a 
modest  emphasis  is  given,  while  to  the  upper  a 
much  stronger  one.  Both  these  faces  are  very 
beautiful,  the  expression  being  chiefly  centred 
in  the  eyes.  The  lids  in  the  one  case  are  half- 
raised,  as  in  the  act  of  awakening  before  con- 


io8  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

sciousness  has  fully  dawned;  in  the  other  lying 
as  softly  over  the  eyeballs  as  folded  petals.  The 
exquisite  chastity  and  serenity  of  these  ripe, 
rounded  faces  are  echoed  in  the  floral  borders; 
so  richly  patterned,  yet  with  such  reserve  and 
tender  piquancy.  And,  in  contrast  with  the 
usual  tedious  reiteration  of  time-wearied  orna- 
mental motives,  how  refreshing  the  novelty  and 
imagination  in  these  borders !  The  artist  has 
gone  to  nature  for  his  models,  and,  while 
reproducing  the  character  of  Renaissance  orna- 
ments, has  used  the  natural  forms  with  so  delicate 
an  exuberance  of  fancy  that  no  motive  is  repeated, 
the  whole  being  quick  with  fragrant  and  fresh 
appeal.  Indeed,  so  far  as  my  knowledge  goes, 
no  plastic  decoration  has  been  produced  in  this 
country  which  can  approach  it  in  beauty ;  perhaps 
not  even  in  the  actual  beauty  of  the  ornamental 
forms,  certainly  not  in  the  sentiment  of  pure  and 
holy  calm  which  it  exhales. 

Nor  even  in  other  decorations  by  Adams  shall 
we  find,  I  think,  such  perfect  harmony  between 
the  form  and  feeling,  for  in  his  other  examples 
he  was  working  with  divided  mind.  While  the 
floral  borders  upon  the  pair  of  bronze  doors 
which  he  executed  for  the  Library  of  Congress 
are  intrinsically  as  beautiful  as  these,  displaying 
the  same  freshness  of  invention  and  loving  insight 


HERBERT  ADAMS  109 

into  the  decorative  suggestion  of  flowers,  they 
have  not  the  same  perfectly  balanced  relation 
to  the  character  and  feeling  of  the  whole  design. 
The  artist  was  dragged  from  his  own  poise  by 
two  outside  influences.  The  doors  had  been 
commenced  by  Olin  Warner,  and  before  his  death 
the  figures  in  the  panels  had  been  planned  and 
partly  executed.  Adams  was  called  upon  to 
complete  the  work  and  strove  loyally  to  preserve 
as  much  as  possible  of  the  dead  artist's  intention. 
Consequently,  the  figures  are  neither  his  nor 
Warner's.  Moreover,  the  planning  of  the  doors 
had  been  originally  the  architect's,  and  he,  too, 
made  his  influence  felt  in  the  direction  of  a 
predilection  for  the  profuse  exuberance  of  Roman 
ornament.  With  this  Adams  has  absolutely  no 
sympathy,  his  own  tendency  being  toward  an 
ardent  nature-study  purified  by  the  influence 
of  the  antique  which  prevailed  among  Floren- 
tines of  the  fifteenth  century.  Therefore,  again 
he  was  twisted  from  what  he  would  have  done 
instinctively.  Compared  with  his  independent 
work  in  the  ♦*  Pratt  Memorial "  tablet,  these 
doors  are  overloaded  and  lacking  in  singleness 
and  unity  of  motive.  Yet  with  what  devotion 
Adams  worked !  The  process  of  casting  in  the 
bronze  could  only  reproduce  the  front  surface 
of  his  decoration;  the  undercutting  of  the  leaves 


no  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

and  tendrils  had  to  be  executed  afterward  with 
a  graving  tool,  and  for  weeks  he  superintended 
the  work.  Viewed  in  detail,  the  borders  in  these 
doors  are  unusually  alive  with  beauty,  but,  as  I 
have  said,  the  ensemble  is  lacking  in  the  crowning 
beauty  of  harmony  of  form  and  feeling. 

He  has  recently  completed  a  tympanum  in 
marble  and  two  bronze  doors  for  the  Vanderbilt 
Memorial  Entrance,  which  has  been  added  to 
St.  Bartholomew's  Church  in  New  York.  Here, 
again,  he  cooperated  with  the  architect.  Such 
cooperation  necessarily  imposes  certain  conditions 
upon  the  sculptor's  imagination;  I  had  almost 
written  limitations  or  restrictions,  except  that 
the  necessity  of  having  to  conform  to  an  archi- 
tectonic plan  need  be  no  bar  to  the  freedom  of 
imagination,  but  merely  directs  it  into  a  certain 
channel.  It  permits,  indeed,  a  liberty  within 
the  law;  but  this  is  not  the  sort  of  cooperation 
that  has  existed  between  the  sculptor  and 
architect  on  the  present  occasion.  The  latter 
has  not  only  established  the  architectural  plan 
of  the  design — a  geometrical  arrangement  of 
bands  and  spaces  which  presents  a  very  agreeable 
ensemble  and  nice  apportionment  of  graduated 
emphasis — ^but  has  also  imposed  upon  the  sculptor 
the  character  of  his  decoration.  The  church  is 
a  modem  rendering  of  the  Romanesque  style; 


BUST   OF    rHE    ARTIST'S   WIFE 
By  Herbert  Adams 


HERBERT  ADAMS  m 

therefore,  the  architect  has  sought  the  models 
for  the  decoration  in  medieval  sculpture  of  the 
eleventh  or  early  twelfth  century.  It  is  a 
characteristic  example  of  the  way  in  which  the 
American  architectxiral  mind  frequently  works. 
Such  a  course  is  so  obvious  and  reasonable,  yet 
what  a  meagemess  of  imagination  it  displays ! 
It  has  mastered  the  "styles"  and  lives  up  to  its 
tables  of  laws  and  formulas  as  rigidly,  as  literally 
and  with  as  little  regard  for  their  spirit  as  the 
Jews  of  old  clung  to  their  Decalogue,  It  dare 
not,  or  cannot,  rekindle  the  spirit  of  the  past  with 
an  infusion  of  the  present,  as  has  been  done  in 
all  living  periods  of  architecture,  but  to  com- 
memorate a  New  Yorker  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  reproduces  the  imgainly  types  of  figures, 
fashioned  at  a  time  when  architecture  was  better 
imderstood  than  sculpture.  So  in  the  principal 
panels  of  the  doors  the  architect  has  arranged 
four  apostles — rude,  formalistic  figures,  too  short 
in  the  leg — and  filled  the  subordinate  ovals  with 
dry  little  rigid  groups;  succeeding  in  his  desire 
to  remind  us  of  the  past  and  failing  utterly  to 
affect  us  in  the  present.  For  what  possible  appeal, 
religious,  emotional  or  esthetic,  can  these  groups 
make  to  the  modem  imagination?  Yet,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  subject  we  are  discussing, 
the  saddest  thing  is  that  a  sculptor  of  "delicately 


112  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

imagined  sensations"  should  be  so  distorted  from 
the  true  bent  of  his  genius  and  compelled  to  exert 
ingenuity  in  lieu  of  imagination.  It  is  an 
incredible  waste,  for  only  in  the  borders  can  we 
discover  Adams's  real  self;  yet,  if  he  had  been 
permitted  to  work  in  a  reasonable  liberty  of 
imagination,  he  might  have  made  the  groups 
conformable  to  the  style  of  the  building  and 
possessed  also  of  some  vital  elements  of  beauty 
and  of  beautiful  appeal. 

One  effect,  however,  of  this  unequal  co- 
operation with  the  architect  which  may  bring 
some  compensating  benefit  to  Adams's  art  has 
been  that  his  mind  has  been  directed  more  than 
previously  to  the  architectonics  of  decoration 
and  to  the  sculptural  value  of  form.  For,  while 
the  figures  in  these  doors  have  no  individual 
interest,  the  sum  total  of  the  whole  decoration 
has  a  very  marked  structural  dignity,  which 
arouses  one's  respect,  if  it  does  not  warm  one  to 
enthusiasm.  And  this  enforcement  of  the 
structural  quality  reappears  even  more  con- 
spicuously in  the  tympantmi,  both  in  the  in- 
creased sense  of  force  which  the  figures  convey, 
and  in  the  organic  relation  of  the  forms  to  the 
shape  of  the  space  and  to  its  architectural 
fimction. 

For,  as  I  have  said  before,  Adams's  work  does 


HERBERT  ADAMS  113 

not  usually  impress  one  by  its  qualities  of  form, 
but  rather  by  its  sentiment  and  expression. 
Even  in  the  portrait-statue  of  Joseph  Henry 
in  the  Library  of  Congress  and  the  "Channing, " 
recently  imveiled  at  Boston,  one  does  not  feel 
the  form  and  character  of  the  bodies.  Both 
figures  are  represented  in  gowns  and  count 
mainly  as  decorative  masses.  In  the  statue  of 
Richard  Smith,  however,  which  is  one  of  his 
latest,  he  has  shown  the  professor  in  his  laboratory, 
clad  in  shirt  and  trousers,  with  no  accessory 
except  an  apron  caught  up  on  one  side;  and  in 
the  treatment  of  the  head  and  body  and  more 
especially  in  the  carriage  of  the  hands,  as  one 
holds  a  specimen  and  the  other  a  magnifying 
glass,  has  obtained  a  considerable  measure  of 
structural  character. 

Nor  do  I  forget  the  t)mipanum,  executed  in 
1896,  for  the  Senate  Reading-Room  in  the  Library 
of  Congress,  a  design  of  two  mermaids  supporting 
a  cartouche.  The  nude  forms  display  a  thorough 
knowledge  of  the  figure  and  a  truly  sculptiu-al 
appreciation  of  the  charm  of  muscular  movement 
rippling  over  firmly  constructed  bodies.  It  seems 
to  prove,  if  it  were  necessary,  that  the  preference 
which  Adams  has  shown  for  the  pictorial 
possibilities  of  sculpture  is  due  only  to  his 
particular  temperament;  to  a  reticence  of  feeling 


114  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

that  shrinks  from  too  exact  an  expression  of  the 
idea,  around  which  in  his  own  imagination  also 
he  preserves  a  certain  zone  of  vagueness. 

So,  in  the  t5mipanum  for  Saint  Bartholomew's 
Church,  illustrated  on  an  accompanying  page, 
he  is  divided  between  the  motives  of  expressing 
a  sentiment  of  tender  adoration  and  of  giving  the 
figures  at  the  same  time  an  architectonic  force. 
In  the  latter  direction  we  may  feel  that  he  has 
been  the  more  successful;  for  in  the  attention 
paid  to  form  he  seems  to  have  become  preoccupied 
in  the  model.  The  same  face  appears  in  each  of 
the  three  figiires  and  with  a  self -consciousness 
in  the  eyes  that  contradicts  the  devotional 
expression  of  the  mouth ;  a  self -consciousness  that 
I  find  myself  connecting  with  the  little  niceties 
of  arrangement  with  which  the  hair  is  prinked. 
I  conclude  by  wondering  if  this  tympanum  will 
prove  a  turning-point  in  the  artist's  career  I 

For  when  one  studies  the  beauty  of  form,  so 
strongly  realised  beneath  the  draperies,  its  fine 
expression  and  functional  propriety,  it  is  to  feel 
that  this  work,  despite  a  certain  lack  of  Adams's 
usual  spirituality  of  sentiment,  is  the  most 
important  in  a  sculptural  sense  that  he  has  yet 
done.  For,  regarded  from  the  point  of  view  of  an 
architectural  decoration  it  is  unusually  distin- 
guished with  admirable  appropriateness  of  lines 


HERBERT  ADAMS  115 

and  masses  to  the  space,  a  truly  architectural 
feeling,  and  a  distribution  of  light  and  shade, 
characterised  alike  by  richness  and  by  delicacy. 
It  has  the  choiceness  of  style  of  his  best  portraits, 
reenforced  by  virility.  And,  if  this  latter  quality, 
called  into  play  by  his  cooperation  with  the 
architect,  is  maintained  in  future  work,  the 
result  can  scarcely  fail  to  be  a  betterment  of  his 
art.  For  he  will  find  a  way  of  bringing  it  into 
complete  harmony  with  the  expression  of  his 
sentiment,  since  there  is  no  necessary  incompati- 
bility between  virility  of  style  and  delicacy  of 
feeling.  Indeed,  the  offspring  of  their  imion  is  a 
very  special  poignancy. 


CHARLES  HENRY  NIEHAUS 


VIII 

CHARLES  HENRY  NIEHAUS 

/^HARLES  HENRY  NIEHAUS  is  a  con- 
^^^  spicuous  exception  to  the  general  rule 
that  our  sculptors  are  Paris-trained.  After 
working  as  a  youth  at  wood -engraving,  stone- 
cutting  and  carving  in  marble,  he  became  a 
student  in  the  McMicken  School  of  Design,  in  his 
native  city,  Cincinnati,  Ohio,  and  thence  pro- 
ceeded to  Munich.  His  German  training  was 
supplemented  by  extensive  travel  and  later  by 
a  prolonged  visit  to  Rome,  during  which  he 
devoted  himself  to  the  study  of  the  nude  under 
the  influence  of  the  antique. 

But  before  the  latter  interlude  in  a  life  other- 
wise filled  with  the  execution  of  commissions,  he 
returned  to  America.  For  him  the  time  was 
auspicious.  President  Garfield  had  recently  been 
assassinated,  and  the  State  of  Ohio  had  appro- 
priated funds  for  a  statue  to  be  placed  in  the 
Capitol  at  Washington,  and  by  public  subscrip- 
tion another  was  to  be  erected  in  Race  Street, 
Cincinnati.    Both  these  commissions  were  awarded 

119 


120  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

to  the  young  Ohio  sculptor.  Each  statue  com- 
memorates Garfield's  gift  of  oratory,  but  the 
one  at  Cincinnati  in  a  more  informal  way,  so  that 
it  probably  represents  very  fairly  Niehaus's 
particular  tendency  at  this  time. 

There  is  a  dramatic  touch  in  the  pose  of  the 
figure;  the  weight  firmly  on  the  left  foot,  the 
other  energetically  advanced ;  both  arms  extended ; 
one  holding  a  sheaf  of  paper,  the  other  raised 
slightly  in  a  gesture  of  maintaining  the  attention 
of  the  audience;  the  handsome  head  well  carried 
above  the  broad,  arched  chest.  But  this  dramatic 
suggestion  does  not  pass  beyond  the  limit  of 
tolerably  natural  characterisation;  the  balance 
between  energy  and  controlling  force,  manifested 
in  the  studied  carriage  ot  a  speaker  accustomed 
to  move  his  hearers;  and  the  naturalism  is  com- 
pleted by  the  absence  of  all  affectations  of  arrange- 
ment in  the  costume.  It  comprises  simply  a 
frock  coat  and  trousers  and  an  overcoat  unbut- 
toned and  drawn  clear  of  the  chest.  The  figure, 
indeed,  is  represented  in  the  guise  and  attitude 
in  which  it  might  be  familiar  to  the  greatest 
number  of  people.  So,  too,  is  that  of  William 
Allen,  for  which  Niehaus  shortly  afterward 
received  the  commission  from  the  State  of  Ohio; 
yet  with  even  greater  simplicity  and  naturalness, 
with  an  absence  of  the  heroic  or  dramatic  which 


CHARLES  HENRY  NIEHAUS        lai 

had  been  fitting  enough  in  the  "Garfield,"  con- 
sidering the  circumstances.  The  "Allen"  is  an 
intimate  portrait  of  an  incisive  speaker  and 
clear,  close  reasoner,  in  an  attitude  entirely 
unstudied,  full  of  natural  resolution. 

From  these  two  statues  one  may  get  a  very 
fair  impression  of  the  sculptor's  natural  bent  as 
influenced  by  Mimich  training.  Its  prime  feature 
is  a  vigorous  realism  that  makes  straight  for 
character  in  the  subject,  finding  it  as  much  in  pose 
and  gesture  as  in  the  head,  and  giving  expression 
to  it  in  the  simplest  and  directest  fashion ;  if  with 
some  dramatic  play  as  we  have  seen,  yet  without 
any  floridness.  What  we  do  not  yet  observe  is 
a  feeling  for  the  subtler  expression  of  movement 
in  the  figure,  and,  in  consequence,  of  subtler 
feeling  in  the  disposition  and  texture  of  the 
draperies;  qualities  which  entered  into  his  work 
after  his  protracted  study  in  Italy. 

For,  having  completed  these  commissions, 
Niehaus  set  out  for  Rome  and  established  himself 
in  a  studio  just  outside  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  in 
close  proximity  to  the  Villa  Borghese,  devoting 
himself,  as  I  have  said,  to  the  study  of  the  nude. 
The  only  three  statues  which  survive  from  this 
period — an  athlete  scraping  himself  with  a  strigil, 
another  binding  on  the  cestus,  and  a  "  Silenus, " 
pirouetting  on  one  foot  as  he  blows  his  pipes — 


122  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

are  qtiite  remarkable  examples  of  the  modem 
interpretation  of  the  antique.  Movement  con- 
tinuous through  every  part  of  the  body  and 
absolutely  adjusted  to  the  action;  a  poise  of 
balance  in  the  disposition  of  the  torso  and  limbs, 
which  combines  the  pleasure  of  repose  with  that 
of  movement;  anatomical  accuracy  that  includes 
the  structure  of  the  figure  and  the  varieties  of 
tension  according  as  the  muscles  are  separately 
employed ;  and  throughout  a  salience  of  modelling 
which  imparts  a  dignity  as  well  as  naturalness  to 
the  whole — ^these  are  the  qualities  so  admirably 
attained.  The  knowledge  of  form  and  the  feeling 
for  it  thus  perfected  has  naturally  influenced  all 
the  sculptor's  subsequent  work.  He  exhibits 
them  obviously  in  the  colossal  nude,  "The 
Driller,"  executed  for  the  Drake  monimient  at 
Titusville,  Pennsylvania ;  but  no  less  in  numerous 
portrait-statues. 

An  American  sculptor  has  imfortunately  few 
opportimities  for  displaying  his  ability  in  the 
treatment  of  the  nude,  the  commissions  which 
perforce  engage  his  time  being  almost  exclusively 
problems  of  fig^es  in  modem  civilian  garb  or  in 
the  uniform  of  the  army  or  navy.  He  may 
occasionally  introduce  it  into  a  piece  of  decorative 
sculpture,  or  fashion  some  ideal  subject  for  the 
pure  love  of  doing  it,  since  his  chances  of  disposing 


THE    DRILLER 
By  Charles  Henry  Niehaus 

From  the  Drake   Monument,   Titusville,  Pennsylvania 


THE    HAHNEMANN    STATUE 
By  Charles    Henry  Niehaiis 

From  the  Hahncmaiiii   Memorial,   Washington,   D.   C. 


CHARLES  HENRY  NIEHAUS        123 

of  it  are  very  limited.  For  while  the  old  Puritan 
objection  to  the  nude  may  have  almost  died  out  in 
America,  it  has  scarcely  been  succeeded  by  a  true 
appreciation  of  the  abstract  expression  and  beauty 
of  the  human  form  when  treated  by  an  artist. 
An  old-fashioned  bltmtness  of  vision  fails  to  see 
more  in  a  nude  than  nakedness;  may  enjoy  very 
thoroughly  the  structural  and  muscular  develop- 
ment, play  of  movement  and  texture  of  skin  in  a 
horse,  or  the  analogies  of  these  qualities  in  a  tree 
or  plant,  and  yet  miss  entirely  their  subtler 
manifestations  when  exhibited  in  the  freely 
exposed  human  form.  Prejudice  or  lack  of 
imagination  obscures  the  fact  that  it  is  the 
expression  of  these  qualities  in  their  highest 
possible  degree,  that  is  the  end  and  purpote  of 
the  artist ;  an  obscurity,  however,  which,  it  must 
be  admitted,  not  a  few  nude  paintings  and 
sculptures  tend  to  perpetuate. 

So  Niehaus  had  to  wait  very  many  years  before 
he  could  utilise  frankly  the  results  of  his  studies  at 
Rome.  The  opportunity  came  with  the  erection 
of  a  monument  to  the  memory  of  Colonel  Edwin 
L.  Drake,  who  simk  the  first  oil  well  in  Pennsyl- 
vania in  1859.  The  donor,  who  preserved  his 
incognito,  but  who  is  supposed  to  have  been  one 
of  the  officials  of  the  Standard  Oil  Company, 
demanded  an  architectural  structure  with  planes 


124  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

on  which  the  story  of  Drake's  life  and  achievements 
might  be  inscribed,  and  instead  of  a  representation 
of  himself  a  figure  typical  of  his  work.  Thus 
arose  occasion  for  "The  Driller." 

It  would  be  well  if  public  monimients  were  more 
frequently  of  this  typical  character.  Our  cities 
and  parks  are  peopled  in  bronze,  not  as  much  as 
possible  to  their  embellishment.  By  all  means 
hand  down  the  effigies  of  great  and  worthy  men ; 
but  why  not  with  more  regard  for  the  really 
salient  thing,  the  head,  introduced  as  bust  or 
bas-relief,  and  with  less  for  the  frock  coat  and 
trousers,  the  cut  of  which  can  be  taken  on  trust 
or,  better  still,  forgotten?  Instead  of  demanding 
such  prosaic  record,  how  much  better  it  would  be 
to  call  upon  the  sculptor  to  create  out  of  his  imagi- 
nation some  subject  that  may  represent  or  sym- 
boHse  the  greatness  of  the  hero  and  appeal  to  the 
imagination  of  succeeding  generations,  meanwhile 
gladdening  all  who  pass  and  repass  it  daily  with 
its  essential  beauties.  Have  you  not  seen  a 
trousered,  frock-coated  statue  against  the  pedestal 
of  which  are  a  row  of  seats  and  sitters  with  their 
back  to  the  man  that  is  to  be  remembered? 
Substitute,  however,  for  example,  a  fountain  to 
his  memory;  and  in  parched  summer  weather,  at 
least,  all  eyes  would  be  turned  toward  its  refresh- 
ment, and  possibly  some  hearts  reminded  of  the 


CHARLES   HENRY   NIEHAUS        125 

man  in  whose  honour  it  was  placed;  who,  if  he 
were  fit  to  be  remembered,  must  have  brought 
in  his  lifetime  some  refreshment  and  stimulus  of 
suggestion  to  his  fellowmen.  So  with  our  bat- 
taUons  of  generals,  mounted  and  unmounted, 
scattered  over  the  country.  Great  men  they 
were,  but  there  was  greatness  also  in  the  volun- 
teers of  the  rank  and  file;  and  I  for  one  shall 
continue  to  find  more  incentive  to  enthusiasm  in 
the  recognition  of  this  in  the  Shaw  Memorial 
than  in  dozens  of  solitary  individiials.  Once 
more,  it  is  imagination  in  which  we  are  wont  to 
be  lacking;  and  the  best  that  is  in  our  artists  is 
seldom  called  forth  because  of  our  insistence 
upon  the  obvious  and  trite. 

"The  Driller,"  therefore,  was  an  unusual 
opportimity  for  Niehaus,  of  which  he  has  made 
characteristic  use.  That  is  to  say,  the  realism  of 
the  figure  as  it  kneels  with  hammer  uplifted  to 
drive  the  drill  into  the  groimd,  is  admirably  true, 
while  the  figure  has  a  classic  dignity  of  composi- 
tion ;  and  its  expression  of  control,  as  well  as  of 
the  putting  forth  of  force,  brings  it  within  the 
domain  of  ideal  beauty.  In  some  groups  which 
were  among  the  ephemeral  sculpture  of  the  Pan- 
American  Exposition  he  also  freely  introduced 
the  nude,  in  a  number  of  figures  symbolising 
various    kinds    of    industry.     Individually    they 


126  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

were  excellent,  but  the  combined  effect  was 
unfortunate.  The  composition  as  a  whole  lacked 
cohesion  and  dignity,  representing  little  more 
than  an  aggregation  of  figures,  separately  em- 
ployed; so  that  one  missed  the  idealising  touch 
and  found  their  realism  of  the  crudely,  story- 
telling kind. 

And  this  last  characteristic — I  do  not  know 
whether  it  is  a  symptom  of  German  genre  feeling 
derived  from  Munich — reappears  elsewhere  in  his 
work.  While  his  statues  are  strongly  sculptural, 
his  bas-reliefs  betray  not  only  a  very  pictorial 
feeling,  but  that  particular  genre  phase  of  it 
which  is  mainly  occupied  with  enforcement  of 
the  facts.  Not,  however,  in  his  earliest  work  of 
the  kind,  the  historical  doors  of  Trinity  Church, 
New  York,  in  which  the  representation  of  inci- 
dents was  demanded.  These  he  represented 
very  realistically,  but  with  a  regard  for  the 
decorative  charm  of  full  and  empty  spaces  and 
of  receding  planes  of  distance.  Compared  with 
the  pictorial  nuance  displayed  in  these  six  panels, 
the  treatment  of  the  four  which  embellish  the 
Hahnemann  monument  is  very  deficient  in 
artistic  imagination.  They  represent  the  foimder 
of  homeopathy  in  a  series  of  scenes  which  are 
baldly  illustrative  and  seem  to  have  little  interest 
of   subject   and   still   less   of   decorative   value. 


CHARLES   HENRY   NIEHAUS        127 

Yet  they  are  affixed  to  a  monument  setting  off 
a  portrait-statue  which  is  Niehaus's  finest  work, 
and  equalled  by  few  others  in  the  cotmtry.  The 
expression  of  benign  dignity  in  the  head  flows 
through  the  whole  length  of  the  figure,  which  is 
disposed  in  lines  that  are  as  suave  as  they  are 
noble.  From  every  point  of  view  it  has  the 
grandeur  of  monumental  repose,  softened,  one 
might  almost  say  humanised,  by  this  exquisite 
winding  movement.  Among  modem  portrait- 
statues  I  can  remember  few  that  make  so  sweet 
and  serious  an  impression.  In  the  composition 
of  this  figure  one  can  trace  unmistakably  the 
effect  of  the  sculptor's  close  study  of  the  antique, 
not  only  in  the  suppleness  of  movement  and 
statuesqueness  of  pose,  but  also  in  the  abstract 
appeal  to  one's  esthetic  enjoyment  that  the 
composition  of  the  figure  yields.  Moreover,  this 
freedom,  force  and  sensitiveness  extend  to  the 
handling  of  the  drapery,  in  which  every  fold  has 
a  grace  of  nattiralness  and  also  a  value  of  expres- 
sion. These  qualities  are  again  happily  imited 
in  the  sitting  statue  of  Lincoln  at  Muskegon, 
Michigan.  While  it  is  neither  so  forceful  nor 
so  perstiasive  as  the  "  Hahnemann,"  it  yet  has  a 
liberal  measure  of  graciousness  and  dignity  and  a 
finely  montimental  feeling. 

In   these  statues  and   in  some  others,   as   in 


128  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  Gibbon  in  the  Library  of  Congress  and, 
though  perhaps  by  more  apparently  contrived 
means,  in  the  standing  statue  of  Stephen  Girard, 
Niehaus  obtains  from  the  composition  of  the  single 
figure  a  degree  of  decorative  effect  which  seems 
to  fail  him  in  treating  groups.  Thus  the  pediment 
of  the  Appellate  Court,  New  York,  while  good  in 
detail,  is  without  much  imity  or  harmonious 
feeling.  It  is,  indeed,  in  the  portrayal  of  charac- 
ter— as  in  his  fine,  straightforward  rendering  of 
Farragut,  or  in  those  striking  busts  of  Rabbi 
Gottheil  and  of  Ward,  the  sculptor,  and  in  the 
statues  already  noticed,  wherein  the  pose  and 
drapery,  besides  contributing  to  the  character, 
yield  an  additional  suggestion  of  monumental 
dignity — ^that  he  is  at  his  best. 


OLIN  LEVI  WARNER 


IX 

OLIN    LEVI    WARNER 

TN  these  days  when  we  are  trying  to  raise 
"artists,"  as  we  do  chickens,  by  a  process 
akin  to  incubation,  we  regard  it  as  an  anomaly 
if  one  emerges  to  eminence  from  surroundings 
which,  according  to  our  system,  do  not  seem 
congenial.  And  people  have  expressed  surprise 
that  Warner,  the  child  of  a  New  England  Method- 
ist minister,  brought  up  in  a  community  which 
had  no  artistic  inclinations,  should  have  made 
up  his  mind  to  become  a  sculptor  before  he  had 
ever  seen  a  statue.  But  the  history  of  art  is  full 
of  such  surprises;  and  the  thoughts  of  youth 
are  ever  like  the  wind,  "which  bloweth  where  it 
listeth;  thou  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh  or 
whither  it  goeth."  The  greater  and  more  beau- 
tiful surprise  is  that  the  boy  had  foundation  of 
character  on  which  to  nourish  the  flowers  of  his 
imagination,  and  that  when  in  after  years  they 
were  matured,  it  was  found  that  he  had  kept  them 
so  choicely  select,  that  their  fragrance  was  not 
unlike  that  of  the  flowers  which  in  old  time 

131 


132  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

bloomed  on  the  hills  of  Hellas.  Something  of 
the  old  Greek  spirit  had  been  revived  in  this  son 
of  Connecticut:  intellectual  stability,  moral  bal- 
ance and  spiritual  serenity.  Presently  we  shall 
consider  how  these  qualities  became  translated 
into  terms  of  art  in  his  work — into  a  feeling  for 
form,  monumental  rather  than  picturesque,  a 
rhythmical  and  harmonious  reserve,  a  peculiar 
sensitiveness  to  the  significance  of  the  essential 
facts  in  the  design — but  at  the  moment  let  us 
note  how  they  affected  his  early  conduct. 

By  the  time  that  he  left  school  at  the  age  of 
nineteen,  the  desire  of  being  a  sculptor  had  so 
grown  upon  him  as  to  press  for  a  decision.  Accord- 
ingly he  arranged  for  himself  a  test.  He  would 
attentpt  a  bust  of  his  father,  and  thus  determine 
once  and  for  all  the  "to  be  or  not  to  be"  of  his 
ambition.  So,  in  ignorance  of  the  easier  way  by 
which  sculptors  proceed,  he  bought  some  plaster 
of  Paris,  converted  it  into  a  block,  and  set  to 
work  with  a  knife.  His  only  notion  of  art  was 
to  produce  a  good  likeness,  and  in  this  he  suc- 
ceeded. The  bust  was  exhibited  and  commended 
at  the  State  Fair,  and  Warner  felt  that  his 
cherished  wish  was  justified.  But  the  delibera- 
tion which  had  characterised  the  choice  of  a 
profession  was  followed  by  an  equal  seriousness 
in  determining  the  means   of  attaining  it.     He 


OLIN  LEVI  WARNER  133 

cotild  not  have  known  that  sculpture  in  America 
at  that  time  was  in  a  poor  way;  he  had,  in  fact, 
no  acquaintance  even  with  the  mediocre  kinds  of 
statue;  but  the  old-fashioned,  New  England 
conscience  within  him  viewed  the  matter  very 
earnestly.  Already  he  felt  a  reverence  for  the 
work  to  which  he  was  to  devote  his  life,  and  that 
the  best  of  preparations  must  be  made.  He 
would  seek  it  in  Paris.  But  he  had  no  ftmds  nor 
could  his  father  spare  them,  so  he  quietly  laid 
aside  his  longings  and  proceeded  to  earn  the 
necessary  money.  Mastering  the  trade  of  tele- 
graph operator,  he  pursued  it  for  six  years,  not, 
as  may  be  supposed,  without  some  ultimate 
benefit  to  the  facility  and  delicacy  of  his  manipu- 
lation.  At  length,  with  his  savings  of  $1,500  he 
started  for  Paris.  This  was  in  1869,  when  he 
was  twenty-five  years  of  age. 

Arriving  in  the  great  city  without  introduction, 
friends  or  knowledge  of  the  language,  he  made  his 
way  to  the  Louvre.  Here  were  students  busy 
copying;  fellows  such  as  he  meant  to  be,  and  he 
was  drawn  toward  them,  wandering  from  easel 
to  easel,  until  upon  the  woodwork  of  one  he 
espied  a  name,  "Arthur  Wilson."  He  ventured 
to  address  the  owner  and  tell  him  of  his  quest, 
and  was  directed  to  a  studio  occupied  by  two 
young   sculptors,    an  American  and  an  English- 


134  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

man.  With  them  he  studied  for  nine  months, 
imtil,  through  the  influence  of  United  States 
Minister  Washbume,  he  was  admitted  to  the 
Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts.  Here  he  worked  in  the 
studio  of  Francois  Jouffroy,  where  he  had  the 
benefit  of  associating  with  such  artists  as  Fal- 
guidre,  an  older  pupil  of  the  master,  and  with 
Falgui^re's  pupil,  Merci^,  a  man  of  his  own  age. 
Both  of  these  artists  had  broken  away  from  the 
master's  severely  academic  style  and  were 
tempering  their  own  with  the  life  and  movement 
of  the  new  naturalistic  tendencies.  Warner 
also  in  modelling  from  nature  incurred  the  old 
master's  strictures,  because  his  sturdy  individual- 
ism refused  to  lend  itself  to  conventional  methods ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  his  studies  from  the 
antique  were  commended.  In  time,  however,  his 
funds  were  exhausted,  and,  having  to  find  em- 
ployment, he  entered  as  an  ordinary  workman 
the  studio  of  Carpeaux,  the  strongest  decorative 
sculptor  in  France  since  Rude,  whose  pupil  he 
had  been.  Warner's  ability  was  recognised  by 
the  master,  and  he  received  the  great  compliment 
of  an  invitation  to  remain  and  study  in  the  studio. 
But  he  declined,  being  eager  by  this  time  to  return 
home. 

The  years    of    studentship   had    been   diversi- 
fied by  the  thrilling  events  of  the  Siege  of  Paris 


OLIN   LEVI   WARNER  135 

and  the  Commune.  Warner  in  his  own  country- 
had  experienced  the  war-fever,  and,  eager  to 
join  the  Army  of  the  Republic  as  a  dnmimer- 
boy,  had  been  dissuaded  by  his  father,  who 
during  the  stormy  days  of  the  Civil  War  carried 
him  off  to  a  quiet  spot  among  the  Vermont 
hills,  that  he  might  continue  his  studies.  So, 
when  the  empire  fell  and  a  republic  was  estab- 
lished, he  regarded  the  action  of  the  Germans 
in  continuing  the  war  as  an  attack  upon  liberty, 
and  enlisted  with  many  of  his  comrades  in  the 
Foreign  Legion.  But  his  duties  were  confined 
to  mounting  guard  upon  the  fortifications. 

When,  in  1872,  Warner  returned  to  New  York 
it  was  to  suffer  the  hard  experience  of  disillusion- 
ment. In  Paris  he  had  found  art  occupying  a 
prominent  position  in  the  public  and  private  life 
of  the  community,  artists  honoured  and  encour- 
aged by  the  State  and  his  own  ability  acknowl- 
edged by  some  of  the  masters  of  his  craft.  He 
returned  to  his  native  coimtry  to  find  a  pre- 
vailing ignorance  concerning  art;  to  find  the 
trained  artist  competing  for  jobs  with  the  com- 
mercial stonecutter  and  metal-worker,  the  compe- 
titions decided  more  by  political  favoritism  and 
wire-pulling  than  by  artistic  merit;  to  find, 
indeed,  that  he  was  transplanting  the  delicate 
growth  of  his  ideals  from  a  congenial  soil  to  what 


136  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

was,  artistically  speaking,  very  much  of  an  arid 
and  howling  wilderness.  These  words  are  scarcely 
too  strong  to  express  the  conditions  of  the  field 
of  art  in  this  country  more  than  a  quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  before  the  Centennial  Exhibition  had 
sounded  the  tocsin  of  an  improved  taste ;  before 
the  students  of  art  had  begim  to  return  in  num- 
bers from  the  foreign  schools,  and  schools  of  art 
in  this  country  had  been  put  upon  a  better  basis ; 
before  the  importation  of  all  sorts  of  works  of 
art  from  Europe  and  the  East,  and  the  travel 
of  our  own  people  abroad  had  become  so  exten- 
sive; before  the  spread  of  interest  and  knowl- 
edge which  all  these  causes  operated  to  produce. 
Even  now  the  slime  of  politics  is  very  apt  to 
foul  the  fair  working  of  competitions,  and  it  is 
often  difficult  for  a  sculptor,  vmless  he  is  at  the 
very  top  of  his  profession,  to  secure  a  public 
commission  without  some  degree  of  wire-pulling. 
But  in  1872,  when  the  factories  kept  on  hand 
a  stock  of  military  statues,  complete  in  every 
particular  except  the  ntimber  of  the  regiment — 
which  was  riveted  on  to  suit  the  requirements 
of  the  intending  ptirchasing  committee — the  out- 
look for  an  imknown  artist  with  high  ideals,  clean 
of  purpose,  who  reverenced  his  profession  as  his 
life,  was  dark  indeed.  Warner  held  hunger 
and  despair  at  arm's  length  for  four  years,  and 


BUST   OF   DANIEL   COTTIER 
By  Olin  Levi  Warner 


CUPID    AND    PSYCHE 
By  Olin  Levi  Warner 


OLIN   LEVI  WARNER  137 

then  decided  that  he  had  better  return  to  his 
trade  of  telegraph  operator. 

So  he  wrote  to  Mr.  Plant,  the  president  of  the 
Southern  Express  Company,  with  whom  he  had 
previously  been  employed,  asking  for  a  position. 
This  gentleman,  however,  learning  the  circtim- 
stances  of  the  case,  met  them  with  a  commission 
for  a  portrait-bust  of  himself,  followed  by  one  of 
Mrs.  Plant.  About  this  time,  too,  Warner  made 
the  acqxiaintance  of  Mr.  Daniel  Cottier,  who  had 
recently  opened  a  gallery  for  the  display  of  the 
objects  of  art  which  he  was  importing,  and  now 
invited  the  sculptor  to  make  an  exhibition  of  his 
works.  This  proved  to  be  the  turning-point  of 
his  affairs;  commissions  began  to  come  in  with 
increasing  frequency,  until  he  was  fully  engaged 
upon  a  ntimber  of  important  works.  He  was 
elected  a  full  member  of  the  National  Academy, 
and  was  one  of  the  original  group  of  painters 
and  sculptors  who  founded  the  Society  of 
American  Artists. 

In  the  too  short  period  left  to  him  before  his  sud- 
den death  in  1896,  which  resiilted  from  a  bicycle 
accident  in  Central  Park,  New  York,  he  produced 
a  variety  of  works  of  high  merit.  They  comprise 
portrait-busts,  among  the  best  of  which  are  those 
of  Daniel  Cottier,  Alden  Weir,  W.  C.  Brownell 
and  Miss  Maud   Morgan;  three  heroic  statues, 


138  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

representing,  respectively:  Governor  Bucking- 
ham of  Connecticut,  William  Lloyd  Garrison 
and  General  Devens ;  fountains  for  Union  Square, 
New  York,  and  for  Portland,  Oregon;  many 
medallion  portraits,  including  some  of  Indian 
Chiefs;  ideal  subjects,  "Twilight,"  "The  Dancing 
Nymph"  and  "  Diana" ;  an  alto-relievo  of  " Cupid 
and  Psyche"  and  one  of  the  sets  of  bronze  doors 
for  the  Library  of  Congress  at  Washington. 
In  all  these  works,  covering  so  wide  a  range  of 
motive,  there  is  present  a  union  of  monumental 
feeling  with  extreme  sensitiveness,  which  gives 
them  in  a  marked  degree  the  sculpturesque 
character  and  invests  them  with  a  singular 
individuality. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  impression  made  on 
me  by  a  memorial  exhibition,  held  in  1897,  of  a 
considerable  nimiber  of  his  busts  and  medallions 
and  of  the  "Psyche."  It  may  sound  a  little 
incongruous,  but  they  suggested  the  impression 
that  a  highly  bred,  finely  trained  race-horse  makes 
upon  the  imagination;  an  intensity  of  force  and 
suppleness,  nothing  superfluous,  everything  ex- 
pressive of  its  ftmction,  the  whole  an  embodiment 
of  keen  vitality,  of  power  and  grace.  There 
was  a  similarly  high-bred  feeling  in  these  heads, 
the  sign-manual  of  an  unusually  keen  perception 
of  facts  and  of  a  most  refined  sensibility  in  the 


OLIN   LEVI  WARNER  139 

rendering  of  them.  I  doubt  if  anywhere  in 
modem  art,  except  in  that  of  Rodin,  will  you 
find  busts  of  such  vital  power.  They  exhibit  the 
same  regard  for  the  structural  significance  of 
the  head ;  something  more  than  the  suggestion  of 
form  and  bulk — a  rich,  strong,  jubilant  recognition 
of  these  facts  as  the  ones  of  peculiar  interest  to 
the  sculptor,  offering  him  the  opportunity  of 
indtilging  his  especial  delight.  They  exhibit 
also,  as  do  Rodin's,  the  same  delicately  precise 
handling  of  details:  like  the  obligato  which  a 
musician  composes  upon  his  basic  theme,  yet 
with  a  different  range  of  motive.  Warner's 
work  does  not  reveal  the  psychological  analysis 
of  Rodin's;  the  penetrating,  almost  troublous 
intensity  of  his  bust  of  Dalou,  for  example.  He 
is  scarcely  less  keen  or  subtle  in  his  analysis  than 
the  French  master,  but  studies  the  ripple  of  flesh 
above  the  muscles,  the  tremor  or  fold  of  an 
eyelid,  the  curves  of  nose  or  mouth,  the  disposi- 
tion of  the  hair,  with  a  pure  delight  in  their 
expressional  force  or  grace.  He  views  the  head 
as  a  type  rather  than  as  an  individuality,  and 
seeks  to  extract  from  it  the  essence  of  its  character. 
It  is  in  this  respect,  among  others,  that  he  shows 
himself  to  be  imbued  with  the  kind  of  spirit  that 
animated  the  Greeks.  As  compared  with  Rodin, 
whose  vision  grasps  the  complexities  of  modem 


I40  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

emotion  and  the  underlying  sadness  of  an  age 
that  has  come  late  in  time  and  whose  energy  is 
enclosed  in  a  frail  web  of  nerves,  Warner  is  a 
child-man,  with  a  man's  reserve  and  poise,  and 
a  child's  unsophisticated  eagerness  of  eye 
and  its  pure  delight  in  beauty  and  the  joy  of 
living. 

And  this  strain  of  the  Greek  temperament  in 
sculpture  is  a  very  different  thing  from  the  motive 
of  the  so-called  "classic"  school.  The  latter 
drew  its  primary  inspiration  from  Roman 
sculpture,  in  a  search  for  something  supposedly 
heroic,  that  would  fit  the  genius  of  the  new 
republicanism  which  had  arisen  out  of  the  chaos 
of  the  Revolution.  It  was  at  first  grandiloquent, 
but,  growing  senile,  fell  to  babbling  of  the  abstract 
beauty  of  line  and  form,  always  without  direct 
reference  to  nature  and  gradually  with  the 
increased  formalism  that  grew  from  the  perpetu- 
ation of  certain  arbitrary  rules  and  precedents. 
Such  "classic"  statues,  when  they  are  the  work 
of  a  master,  have  their  beauty,  but  it  is  inert, 
without  the  thrill  of  life;  when  the  work  of  a 
mere  practitioner,  they  are  unspeakably  jejune 
and  paltry.  Both  kinds  are  alike  in  their  divorce 
from  nature-study,  from  the  inspiration  which  it 
gives  to  an  intimate  appreciation  of  Hne  and 
form.     They  will  not  show  the  fluidity  of  line. 


OLIN   LEVI   WARNER  141 

the  delicate  surprises  of  ctirve,  the  infinite 
subtleties  of  modelling  that  invite  caress,  the 
texture  and  quality  of  flesh,  nor  the  mingling  of 
firm  and  supple  in  the  form,  the  pliant  movement 
adjusted  to  the  action  of  the  figure — in  a  word, 
the  stir  of  life  within  the  material.  Warner 
gives  us  this  sensation  and  with  so  choice  an 
instinct  for  the  exact  point  at  which  the  naturalism 
should  melt  into  plastic  immobility,  with  a  love 
so  keen  and  imalloyed  for  the  manifestations  of 
nature  and  in  a  spirit  so  seriously  jocimd,  that  we 
recognise,  as  I  have  said,  his  affinity  with  the 
old  Greek  ideal. 

We  may  trace  it  also  in  his  feeling  for  the 
monumental  rather  than  for  the  picturesque; 
for  those  qualities  in  sculpture  which  belong  to 
it  preeminently,  as  opposed  to  those  which  it 
derives  by  analogy  from  painting.  It  appears 
in  the  alto-relievo,  "Cupid  and  Psyche,"  most 
conspicuously,  because  the  subject  n^ght^Ji^ve-^ 
been  treated  differently.  The  modem  sculptor, 
working  from  the  backgroimd  to  the  front  plane 
by  repeated  superlayers  of  clay,  can  introduce 
a  variety  of  subtly  differentiated  planes,  and  may 
become  absorbed  in  this  composition  of  light 
and  shade,  producing  an  effect  which  we  can 
describe  as  full  of  colour  and  which  is  exceedingly 
beautiful.     The    artist    of    old    time,    however, 


142  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

graving  the  marble,  wood  or  metal,  started  with 
the  form  of  the  figiires  under  his  hand,  absorbed 
himself  in  them  and  regarded  the  open  spaces 
of  his  composition,  when  he  reached  them,  simply 
as  a  background.  Instead  of  a  quasi-pictorial 
subtlety  of  Hght  and  shade  he  strove  for  a  purely 
sculptural  tangibility  of  modelled  form.  It  is 
this  insistence  upon  form  which  is  so  conspicuous 
in  the  "Psyche";  in  the  contrast  between  the 
child's  podgy  softness  and  the  maiden's  long, 
lithe,  firm  figure. 

This  principle,  applied  to  decoration,  is  most 
successfully  represented  in  the  artist's  last 
completed  work,  the  bronze  doors  of  the  Library 
of  Congress.  In  the  lunette-shaped  spaces  above 
the  doors  the  figures  are  in  very  high  relief,  and 
the  backgroimd  is  modelled  with  forms  of  moim- 
tains  and  clouds,  producing  an  effect  of  great 
richness,  while  upon  each  valve  of  the  door  is  a 
single  figure  in  low  relief;  the  flesh  parts  having 
an  emphasis  of  roundness,  the  draperies  being 
flattened,  yet  amply  indicating  the  dignity  of 
the  form  beneath.  The  left-hand  figure  with 
the  lyre  (how  I  wish  that  it  were  possible  to 
reproduce  it  here  !)  is  supremely  beautiful  in  its 
poise  between  life  and  art,  in  its  exquisite  rhythm 
of  lines  and  in  the  alternate  ebb  and  flow  of  the 
planes  of  surface. 


OLIN   LEVI   WARNER  143 

But  it  was  in  his  rendering  of  the  nude  that 
Warner  exhibited  the  loveHest  quaHties  of  his 
art.  He  viewed  it,  as  one  views  a  flower,  with 
single  vision  for  its  exquisite  abstract  beauty. 
Flower-Hke  and  fragrant,  the  "Psyche,"  the 
"Dancing  Nymph"  and  "Diana,"  have  the 
qmvering  sensibility  of  contour  that  one  finds 
in  the  free  growth  of  nature ;  united,  however,  to 
a  firmness  of  texture  and  strength  of  structure 
and  to  a  conscious  play  of  movement,  responding 
to  the  play  of  spirit,  which  in  their  perfect  alliance 
are  only  to  be  found  in  the  himian  form.  The 
spirit  which  animates  these  figures  is,  of  course, 
the  sculptor's,  and  it  reveals  itself  most  choicely 
in  the  serenity  of  the  "Diana,"  in  the  suspense 
between  absolute  repose  and  projected  movement. 
For  the  figure  seems  about  to  rise;  the  carriage 
of  the  head  and  body  alike  suggest  the  activity 
inherent  in  the  languor.  One  may  believe  that 
in  the  precision  of  beauty  displayed  in  this  statue, 
in  the  complete  adjustment,  that  is  to  say,  of 
every  one  of  its  qualities  of  beauty  to  the  supreme 
idea  of  discovering  that  imaginary  line  upon 
which  life  merges  into  art,  the  mobile  into  the 
immobile,  Warner  reached  most  nearly  his  ideal. 
For  in  his  busts  and  heroic  statues,  as  in  the 
fountains  and  decorative  subjects,  he  was  more 
or  less  constrained  to  a  point  of  view.     But  in 


144  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

his  nudes,  and  particularly  in  this  one,  the  product 
of  his  maturity,  he  could  work  in  the  full  liberty 
of  his  imagination.  And  the  latter  is  foimd  to 
be  the  ideal  expression  of  those  qualities  of 
character  which  I  have  already  attributed  to 
him:  intellectual  stability,  moral  balance  and 
spiritual  serenity. 

The  singularly  choice  discretion  which  governed 
Warner's  appreciation  of  form  is  shown  equally 
in  his  Portland  fountain:  a  circular  bowl  with 
broad,  flat  brim,  supported  upon  a  rectangular 
pedestal  and  balanced  by  two  caryatides.  The 
design  is  almost  severely  simple,  yet  tempered 
with  a  grace  of  fitness  in  every  detail,  so  chaste 
and  noble  as  to  produce  an  impression  of  perfect 
repose.  It  has,  indeed,  just  that  suggestion  of 
being  firmly  rooted,  of  strong  growth  upward 
and  of  natural  spread  at  the  top,  which 
exactly  befits  its  architectural  character,  while 
in  the  contour  and  details  it  is  as  delicate  as 
a  lily. 

We  have  traced  this  feeling  for  the  monimiental 
side  of  sctdpture  in  Warner's  reliefs,  where  it  is 
revealed  in  the  thoroughly  plastic  treatment  of 
form,  so  that  it  quivers  on  the  edge  between 
immobility  and  life;  in  his  foimtain,  that 
presents  a  conspicuous  immobility  quickened  with 
animation,  and  in  his  busts,  wherein  the  form 


DIANA 

By  Olin  Levi  Warner 


OUN   LEVI   WARNER  145 

is  made  the  foundation  of  lifelike  character. 
It  remains  to  note  how  this  last  combination  is 
carried  to  its  highest  conclusions  in  his  heroic 
statues. 

A  standing  figure  could  scarcely  be  planted 
on  its  feet  or  mount  with  more  inevitableness  of 
free,  strong  growth  than  the  statue  of  General 
Devens,  while  in  the  carriage  of  the  whole  body, 
more  especially  in  that  of  the  alert,  intellectual 
head,  the  type  of  the  citizen-officer  is  convincingly 
expressed.  But  a  sitting  figure  offers  a  more 
complicated  problem,  owing  to  the  number  and 
variety  of  planes  which  it  presents  and  to  the 
necessity  of  harmonising  these  contrasted  items 
into  a  completely  balanced  ensemble.  Warner, 
in  the  statue  of  Garrison,  has  united  such  a  variety 
of  lineal  directions  and  opposing  planes  into  a 
stately,  stable  mass ;  has  mingled  with  the  dignity 
of  repose  an  energy  of  character  and  gesture  all 
the  more  impressive  that  it  is  kept  in  control,  and 
has  made  every  detail  of  movement  respond  to 
the  suppressed  fire  of  character  in  the  head. 
The  latter  is  modelled  with  a  touch  as  tenderly 
appreciative  as  will  be  found  in  any  of  his  busts 
or  reliefs,  so  that  this  statue  of  the  great  aboli- 
tionist, perhaps  the  most  important  work  of  his 
career,  sums  up  the  diverse  characteristics  of 
his  art. 


146  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

How  noble  that  was  in  sentiment  and 
expression,  how  thoughtfully  taken  up  and  with 
what  a  loving  gravity  pursued,  even  the  least  of 
his  works  declare. 


SOLON  HANNIBAL  BORGLUM 


X 

SOLON  HANNIBAL  BORGLUM 

TT  was  five  years  ago  that  Solon  H.  Borglum 
was  first  represented  at  the  Salon;  he  also 
received  a  silver  medal  at  the  Universal  Exposition 
of  1900  and  another  at  the  Pan-American 
Exhibition  in  Buffalo;  quite  recently  a  fuller 
display  of  his  work  has  been  seen  at  the  Keppel 
Gallery  in  New  York.  Yet,  although  he  is 
probably  the  most  original  sculptor  that  this 
coimtry  has  produced,  he  is  still  but  little  known 
to  the  American  public. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  a  people  with  such 
eagerness  for  novelty  should  in  some  cases  be  so 
slow  to  appreciate  originality.  But  there  is  no 
necessary  connection  between  the  two;  indeed, 
the  pleasure  in  novelty  may  easily  pass  into  a 
craving  for  it,  as  enfeebling  to  the  mind  as  the 
habitual  use  of  drug  or  dram;  whereas  the 
recognition  of  originality  demands  some  inde- 
pendence and  original  effort  on  the  part  of  our- 
selves. Again,  originality  does  not  act  by  blind 
jumps  in  midair,  as    in  that  species    of  dream 

149 


ISO  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

with  which  some  of  us  may  be  familiar,  wherein 
we  find  ourselves  midway  in  a  leap,  and  then, 
by  successive  contractions  of  the  muscles,  seem 
to  continue  our  leaps  in  the  air  until  we  fancy 
that  we  are  flying.  The  leap  of  originality  must 
always  commence  from  some  mental  terra  firma — 
conscious  or  unconscious  experience ;  and,  accord- 
ing as  there  is  in  ourselves  some  degree  of 
corresponding  experience,  shall  we  appreciate  or 
at  least  be  impressed  by  the  originality  of  the 
inventor  and  the  artist ;  of  the  creator,  in  a  word, 
whether  he  deals  in  facts  or  in  ideas.  For  this 
reason  the  creator  of  facts  meets  with  readier 
recognition  than  the  creator  of  ideas.  Marconi, 
for  example,  though  he  deals  with  matters  far 
beyond  the  understanding  of  most  people,  never- 
theless appeals  to  their  imagination  through 
their  habitual,  though  it  may  be  imscientific, 
acquaintance  with  the  previous  methods  of 
telegraphic  communication.  So,  in  the  case  of 
every  creator  in  the  domain  of  practical  experi- 
ment; either  he  meets  a  realised  need  or  quickly 
suggests  a  need  through  the  analogy  of  our 
e very-day  experience. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  creator  of  ideas  must 
be  satisfied  with  a  smaller  following,  at  least  at 
first,  and  at  any  rate  with  slower  appreciation. 
Yet   here,    too,    there   are   degrees   of   slowness. 


SOLON  HANNIBAL  BORGLUM      151 

according  to  the  medium  of  expression  which  he 
employs.  Of  all  such  artists,  he  who  works 
in  words  will  reach  the  people  most  qtdckly, 
since  this  is  an  age  of  words,  especially  of  the 
written  word. 

The  public  eye  is  habituated  to  the  printed 
page;  though,  truly,  not  so  much  in  search  of 
ideas  or  for  suggestive  stimulus  to  thought,  but 
rather  to  the  loss  of  independent  thinking  and 
to  the  smothering  of  the  imagination  in  a  banal 
prodigality  of  detailed  statements.  In  the  palmy 
days  of  painting  and  sculpture  it  was  to  them 
that  the  eye  was  habituated,  and  the  impressions 
thus  received  were  informed  with  the  experience 
and  the  imagination  of  each  observer.  We, 
however,  in  the  superiority  of  our  modem 
education,  nm  our  eye  over  a  painting  or  piece 
of  sculpture  to  discover  what  there  is  in  either 
that  is  convertible  into  words,  and  overlook 
the  qualities  which  affect  the  senses  abstractly, 
which  are  indeed  the  bones  and  marrow  and 
very  physiognomy  of  the  work  of  art,  its  dis- 
tinguishing characteristics  and  capacity  to  move 
us.  And  this  powerlessness  to  enter  into  a  work 
of  art  from  the  artist's  point  of  view  deprives 
us  of  all  independence  and  initiative  of  appre- 
ciation. When  a  gap  has  been  made  by  some 
beU-wether  in  the  hedge  of  stubborn  intolerance 


152  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

which  public  opinion  had  set  round  the  art  of  a 
Rodin,  we  take  our  turn  in  the  long  row  of  sheep 
that  follow  each  other's  tails  through  the  gap 
and  fancy  that  we  are  discoverers  and  appre- 
ciators  of  genius.  Small  wonder,  then,  if  one  of 
our  own  prophets,  merely  a  young  sculptor  of 
America,  should  still  be  waiting  for  honour  in 
his  own  country. 

Yet  it  is  here,  if  anywhere,  that  Borglum's 
work  should  be  appreciated,  since  it  is  American 
to  the  core,  dealing  with  the  incidents  of  cowboy 
life  on  the  western  prairies.  Others  have  essayed 
the  same  subject,  but  rather  from  an  outside 
standpoint  with  technical  equipment  derived 
from,  or  at  least  inspired  by,  the  teaching  of  the 
Parisian  schools.  Borglum,  on  the  other  hand, 
knew  from  childhood  the  inside  of  the  life,  was 
himself  a  cowboy,  and  for  a  long  time  with  no 
thought  of  anything  but  the  joy  and  interest  of 
the  life  itself.  Least  of  all  had  he  any  notions 
about  art.  The  free,  open-air  existence  amid 
spaciousness  of  earth  and  sky;  the  recurring 
seasons,  each  with  its  separate  routine  of  necessary 
work,  demanding  the  exercise  of  vigour,  resource- 
fulness and  courage;  intimacy  with  man  and 
animal  life,  and  sympathy  begotten  of  mutual 
hardships  and  frequent  dangers — these  things 
possessed  him,  and  in  the  vast  silence  of  nature 


COWBOY  MOUNTING 
By  Solon  Hannibal  Borglum 


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SOLON  HANNIBAL  BORGLUM        153 

penetrated  silently  the  fibers  of  his  being.  He 
grew  and  grew  unconsciously;  his  manhood 
matured  before  the  artist  in  him  awoke ;  his  mind 
stored  with  experiences  before  the  need  came 
upon  him  of  expression. 

The  dormant  artistic  instinct  was  an  inheritance 
from  his  father,  a  Danish  wood-carver,  who  had 
migrated  to  this  cotmtry  early  in  the  sixties. 
He  settled  in  Ogden,  Utah,  where  Solon  was  bom 
in  1868;  but  he  found  no  encouragement  for  his 
craft  and,  resolving  to  become  a  doctor,  turned 
back  to  St.  Louis,  took  a  degree  in  medicine, 
and  then  established  himself  in  Fremont, 
Nebraska,  where  his  practice  soon  extended  far 
into  the  prairies.  He  kept  many  horses,  and 
the  son  grew  up  among  them,  with  little  inclination 
for  school  studies  and  a  keen  desire  for  the  open- 
air  life.  At  first  he  worked  as  a  cowboy  on  a 
ranch  of  his  father's;  later  assumed  control  of 
a  larger  one,  where  for  a  number  of  years  he 
Hved  in  that  close  companionship  with  men  and 
animals  which  breeds  sympathy  as  well  as 
knowledge. 

One  of  his  elder  brothers,  Gutzon,  had  already 
become  an  artist,  and  it  was  a  visit  that  he  paid 
to  the  ranch  in  1890  which  first  aroused  in  Solon's 
mind  a  thought  of  trying  to  draw.  He  began 
to  experiment  with  the  pencil,  and  gradually  the 


154  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

fascination  of  representing  form  grew  upon  him, 
so  that  sketching  occupied  all  his  leisure  time 
with  continually  increasing  grip  upon  his  desire, 
until  by  1893  he  made  up  his  mind  to  sell  out  his 
share  in  the  ranch  and  go  forth  and  study  art. 

First  he  sought  his  brother  in  the  Sierra  Madre 
Mountains  of  California  and  studied  painting 
with  him  for  a  few  months;  then  drifted  to  Lx)s 
Angeles,  and  thence  to  Santa  Anna.  In  the 
latter  town  he  rented  his  first  studio  at  two  dollars 
a  month;  but  it  was  not  long  before  he  foimd 
his  clothes  were  getting  i:habby,  and,  moreover, 
the  confinement  of  the  four  walls  was  irksome. 
So  he  put  a  sign  upon  his  door,  "  In  Studio 
Satiirdays  Only";  and  under  cover  of  the  dusk 
started  for  the  wild  country  of  the  Saddleback 
Mountains.  All  through  the  week  he  lived 
among  the  old  Spanish  Indians  and  Greasers — ' 
lawless  people  who  have  been  left  stranded  in 
the  march  of  civilisation — eating  with  them, 
sleeping  beside  them  in  the  thicket,  sketching 
everything  he  saw.  On  Friday  he  started  back 
for  the  town,  and,  sleeping  on  the  outskirts, 
was  early  astir  in  the  morning  and  passed 
imobserved  to  his  little  room  before  the  towns- 
people were  awake. 

That  first  Saturday  he  was  uninterrupted  in 
his  work,  and  at  nightfall  again  set  out  for  the 


SOLON   HANNIBAL  BORGLUM       155 

mountains.  But  the  following  week,  to  his 
surprise,  a  visitor  called,  a  school-teacher  from 
the  East,  and  the  result  of  the  visit  was  first  a 
commission  to  paint  the  stranger's  portrait  for 
five  dollars,  and  secondly,  the  beginning  of  a 
valued  friendship.  Next  Saturday  the  teacher 
called  again,  accompanied  by  two  ladies,  who 
wished  to  learn  to  paint.  The  lessons  were 
continued  weekly  at  a  dollar  a  visit,  and  thus  for 
nearly  a  year  he  subsisted,  one  day  of  each  seven 
in  his  studio  and  during  the  others  among  the 
mountains;  until,  encouraged  by  his  friend,  he 
made  a  sale  of  his  drawings,  netted  sixty  dollars, 
and  therewith  packed  up  his  blanket  and  oil-stove 
and  set  his  face  toward  Cincinnati. 

Here  he  entered  the  day  and  evening  classes  in 
drawing  and  rented  a  little  room.  Before  long, 
however,  he  was  heartsick  for  the  old,  free  life. 
It  was  beyond  his  reach;  yet,  as  he  went  to  and 
from  his  work,  he  passed  the  United  States  mail 
stables,  and  the  sight  of  the  horses  stirred  the 
old  feeling  of  comradeship.  The  lights  were 
kept  burning  at  night  in  the  stables,  so  morning 
after  morning  before  daybreak  he  lived  among 
them,  drawing  and  studying.  By  degrees  he 
turned  to  modelling  and  executed  the  figure  of  a 
horse  pawing  a  dead  one.  It  was  shown  to  Mr. 
Rebisso,   the  head  of  the  school  of  modelling, 


iS6  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

who,  discovering  the  young  man's  ability,  gave 
him  encouragement  and  advice,  permitting  him 
to  work  in  his  own  studio  and  finally  making  it 
possible  for  him  to  visit  Paris. 

Until  Borglum's  fingers  had  found  their  way 
to  clay  he  had  been  groping  in  the  half-light  of 
tmrealised  purpose.  Now,  however,  he  discovered 
at  one  stride  the  kind  of  subject  nearest  to  his 
heart  and  the  method  of  expression  best  fitted 
to  his  experience  and  temperament. 

For,  look  you,  his  experience  had  been  of  facts ; 
facts,  it  is  true,  from  which  in  the  aftermath  of 
memory  his  temperament  was  to  extract  their 
romance  and  sentiment;  but,  in  the  first  place, 
facts  of  the  most  direct  and  vigorous  form. 
The  subtleties,  to  which  painting  better  lends 
itself,  were  outside  the  habit  of  his  mind ;  whereas 
the  tangible  shape  and  more  simple  obviousness 
of  sculpture  exactly  fitted  his  need.  He  had 
reached  it  through  the  same  natural,  unpre- 
meditated growth  that  had  characterised  all  his 
development.  Such  kind  of  growth  is,  perhaps, 
only  possible  to  one  whose  boyhood  and  early 
manhood  have  been  spent  in  the  large  vacancy 
of  nature  and  the  natural  life.  To  those  who 
are  bred  within  the  crowded  and  conscious 
civilisation  of  cities  the  desire  of  being  an  artist 
will  probably  come  earlier;  it  will  anticipate  the 


SOLON  HANNIBAL  BORGLUM      157 

experiences  of  life ;  from  the  first  will  shape  itself 
more  definitely  and  in  its  course  conform  to 
existing  opportimities  of  instruction.  While  still 
immature  in  character  and  manhood  the  student 
will  be  rvin  through  the  mould  of  a  matured 
system  which  will  turn  him  out  at  best  an 
inexperienced  expert. 

But  with  Borglimi  it  was  otherwise.  The 
experience  here  preceded  the  expertness,  and  the 
latter  is  not  such  as  the  schools  can  teach  or 
possibly  should  try  to  teach.  His  groups  have 
little  of  the  ordered  arrangement  of  traditional 
composition,  nor  does  the  modelling  show  facile 
skill  or  elegant  refinement.  His  work,  indeed, 
is  much  more  an  expression  of  natiu*e  than  of  art, 
the  frank,  untrammelled  expression  of  a  natural 
artist  giving  utterance  to  the  fulness  of  his 
thoughts.  He  acknowledges  with  gratitude  the 
great  assistance  that  he  received  from  Mr.  Rebisso, 
and  when  he  went  to  Paris  he  enjoyed  the  critical 
encouragement  of  Fr^miet  and  Saint-Gaudens ; 
but  for  the  rest  he  is  self-taught.  His  visit  to 
Paris  lengthened  into  a  sojourn  of  four  years, 
during  which  he  took  a  short  course  in  the  study 
of  the  figure  at  Julien's  Academy  and  frequented 
the  Louvre  and  Luxembourg;  otherwise  keeping 
very  much  to  his  studio,  drawing  inspiration  from 
the  memory  of  his  own  experiences,   and   dis- 


158  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

covering  for  himself  a  technique  that  should  give 
substance  to  his  ideas. 

So  Borglum's  work  does  not  readily  line  up 
with  that  of  other  modem  sculptors.  In  its 
disregard  of  symmetrical  composition,  in  the 
frequent  appearance  of  passages  left  suggestively 
in  the  rough  and  in  the  vivid  naturalness  that 
characterises  it  we  may  for  a  moment  fancy  that 
we  detect  the  influence  of  Rodin.  Yet  it  shows 
none  of  the  latter' s  feeling  for  subtlety  of  modelling, 
and  by  comparison  is  crude;  moreover,  the  point 
of  view  of  each  is  widely  different.  Rodin's  is 
profoundly  analytical  and  introspective  at  the 
same  time;  Borglum's  more  spontaneous  and 
instinctive,  aiming  to  interpret  in  a  vigorous 
ensemble  the  vivid  impression  of  an  objective 
fact.  Again,  in  breadth  of  handling  and  in 
knowledge  of  animal  structure  and  movement, 
we  might  compare  him  with  Barye;  only  to  find, 
however,  that  the  latter  far  excels  him  in  nobility 
of  line  and  mass  and  falls  as  far  behind  him  in 
the  expression  of  sentiment. 

For  Borglum's  work  reveals  in  a  remarkable 
degree  the  sentiment  which  comes  of  intimate, 
habitual  companionship.  He  does  not,  on  the 
one  hand,  invest  his  animals  with  any  quasi- 
human  sentimentality,  or,  on  the  other,  look  at 
them  from  the  outside  standpoint  of  the  himter 


SOLON   HANNIBAL  BORGLUM       159 

or  otherwise  observant  student.  He  has  entered 
into  the  actual  sentient  part  which  they  play  in 
the  life  they  share  with  man.  Hence  the  senti- 
ment that  his  work  reveals  is  most  poignantly 
affecting.  I  doubt,  indeed,  if  any  sculptor  of 
animals  has  ever  represented  with  such  fidelity 
and  convincingness  their  intelligence  and  emo- 
tions. Note,  for  example,  some  of  the  phases  of 
character-building  in  which  he  represents  the 
bronco.  Here  it  is  full-grown,  though  still 
imtamed,  but  quiet  as  a  lamb,  resting  its  muzzle 
on  its  dam's  back.  It  has  not  yet  come  in 
contact  with  the  disciplining  force  of  man.  Now 
it  is  confronted  with  a  saddle  that  lies  upon  the 
groimd  and  recoils  with  a  mixture  of  trembling 
and  curiosity.  There  it  has  been  roimded  up 
and  thrown,  at  first  struggling  with  impotent 
fury,  then  stretched  in  utter  exhaustion.  Later 
the  saddle  is  on  its  back,  and  it  is  pitting  its 
strength  and  cimning  against  the  knowledge  and 
endurance  of  man;  then  finally  tamed,  and  co- 
operating with  man  in  the  taming  of  other 
horses,  or  sharing  the  night  watch,  or  meeting 
with  him  the  mortal  peril  of  the  blizzard. 

But  Borglum's  power  of  stimulating  our 
imagination  includes  in  some  cases  even  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  environment  of  the  figures,  as,  for 
instance,  in  the  marble  group  of  a  mare  and  foal 


i6o  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

caught  in  a  snowstorm.  The  little  one  is  uncon- 
scious of  danger,  content  as  it  noses  close  up  to 
the  mother's  side  for  shelter;  but  the  gesture  of 
the  latter  is  full  of  solicitude  and  anxiety.  In 
the  swish  of  her  tail  and  the  droop  and  stiffening 
of  the  hind  quarters,  we  are  made  to  realise  the 
force  of  the  blizzard ;  while,  is  it  the  little  mass  of 
piled-up  snow,  or  the  whiteness  of  the  marble, 
or  the  intensity  of  the  sculptor's  imagination, 
that  conveys  to  our  own  a  sense  of  white,  snowy 
desolation  all  around  the  two  poor  creatures? 
It  is  seldom  in  modern  sculpture  that  one  will 
find  an  expression  of  sentiment  so  unaffected 
and  affecting. 

And  the  other  notable  element  in  his  work  is 
its  rendering  of  movement.  It  matters  not  what 
kind  of  movement — impetuous  dash,  sudden 
arrest  of  action,  alert  repose,  the  vicious  fling 
of  body  and  heels  as  the  beast  prepares  to  turn 
a  somersault,  the  limp  of  pain,  the  submission  of 
exhaustion,  the  supple  step  to  music  in  the  circus, 
the  pause  of  doubt,  the  spasm  of  baffled  rage — 
each  and  all  and  others  are  represented  with  an 
intimacy  of  knowledge  and  an  instinctive  cer- 
tainty of  method.  He  knows  his  subject  so  well 
and  realises  in  his  mind  so  vividly  the  impression 
which  he  seeks  to  interpret,  that  all  pettiness  of 
observation  is  swallowed  up  in  a  large  compre- 


D    "re 
W   .-2 

h  ^ 


pq 


SOLON   HANNIBAL  BORGLUM       16 1 

hension  which  disregards  details,  except  in  so  far 
as  they  are  essential  to  the  action  or  the  sentiment. 
And  how  characteristic  are  the  details  which  he 
does  introduce  !  Here,  for  example,  is  the  figure 
of  a  horse,  "tamed."  A  saddle  lies  upon  the 
groimd.  It  is  the  object  which  excites,  first  the 
terror,  then  the  anger  of  the  imtamed  horse. 
But  this  one  is  conquered  and  hangs  his  head 
submissively  over  the  instrument  and  badge  of 
his  defeat.  He  stands  with  front  feet  planted 
forward,  the  legs  trembling,  the  hind  ones  limp 
and  sluggish;  the  line  of  the  ribs  exposed  as  the 
flank  heaves ;  the  nostrils  distended  with  the  gasps 
of  breath;  the  eye  listless,  the  ear  fallen.  But, 
keenest  touch  of  all,  note  how  the  saddle-cloth 
and  girths  have  left  a  hot,  glossy  impress  upon 
the  body,  the  hair  aroimd  their  edges  being  clotted 
with  sweat.  It  is  detail  such  as  this,  full  of 
character,  that  one  finds  in  all  these  pieces  of 
sculpture;  and,  for  the  rest,  the  modelling  is 
broadly  suggestive,  yet  always  distinctly  charac- 
teristic ;  not  only  rendering  structure  and  action, 
but  offering  varieties  of  flesh  texture,  according 
to  the  condition  and  character  of  the  horse 
represented. 

Borglum,  in  a  word,  is  an  impressionistic 
sculptor,  untrammelled  by  formula  or  tradition, 
seeking  nature  direct,  with  an  eye  habituated  to 


i62  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

essentials  and  with  a  degree  of  sympathetic 
comprehension  that  corresponds  with  the  range 
and  reahty  of  his  hfe's  experiences.  His  work 
is,  thus,  truly  original;  a  product  of  his  own 
manhood,  fashioned  to  artistic  fitness. 


VICTOR  DAVID  BRENNER 


XI 
VICTOR   DAVID   BRENNER 

TN  this  country,  as  elsewhere,  prior  to  the 
estabUshment  of  the  French  Society  des 
Amis  de  la  Medaille,  medal-making  had  sunk 
to  a  department  of  trade ;  or,  if  something  artistic 
were  attempted,  there  was  a  divorce  between  the 
designing  and  engraving.  A  sculptor  or  painter, 
with  no  practical  knowledge  of  the  possibilities 
and  limitations  of  the  cutting  process,  would  be 
commissioned  to  produce  the  design,  while  its 
execution  in  the  die  was  turned  over  to  a  more 
or  less  skilled  operative.  The  barrenness  of  the 
result  may  be  seen  in  the  majority  of  medals 
produced  during  many  years. 

Recognising  that  the  work  of  the  medallist 
had  been  and  should  be  a  special  department  of 
art,  with  very  individual  qualities  of  exquisite 
expression,  the  National  Academy  two  years  ago 
established  a  class  in  Coin  and  Medal  Designing 
and  put  it  in  charge  of  Victor  D.  Brenner. 

Ten  years  previously  the  latter  had  arrived 
in  New  York,  an  expert  die-sinker  and  engraver ; 

165 


i66  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

now  he  had  just  returned  from  studying  under 
Roty  in  Paris.  The  story  of  his  progress  from 
artisan  to  artist  is  not  without  a  touch  of  romance. 

To  the  student  of  personal  accompUshment 
there  is  always  a  particular  satisfaction  in  the 
contrast  between  hard  and  strait  beginnings  and 
the  ultimate  success.  He  forgets,  as  the  artist 
himself  perhaps  does  when  the  sweets  of  victory 
are  on  his  tongue,  the  long  weariness  of  the 
previous  struggle,  and  is  philosophically  per- 
suaded that  the  pain  of  parturition  must  neces- 
sarily precede  the  birth  of  art  as  of  life.  However 
that  may  be,  Brenner  has  had  his  share  of 
privations ;  and  it  is  well  for  him  that  he  encoun- 
tered them  early  and  surmounted  them  before 
the  enthusiasm  of  youth  dwindled. 

He  was  born  in  187 1  at  Shavly,  in  the  north- 
west of  Russia,  and  from  his  sixth  to  his  thirteenth 
year  attended  the  Hebrew  school.  After  three 
years  of  apprenticeship  to  his  father,  who  was  a 
general  mechanic  and  seal-cutter,  with  consider- 
able talent  in  carving,  the  youth,  now  sixteen  years 
old,  travelled  through  the  neighbouring  towns, 
making  seals.  Then  he  worked  for  a  jewelry 
engraver  in  Riga,  and  subsequently  migrated  to 
^littau,  where  he  found  employment  in  a  rubber 
stamp  and  type  foimdry,  cutting  dies  and  illus- 
trations for  advertisements.     In  1889  he  estab- 


VICTOR  DAVID   BRENNER  167 

lished  himself  in  Kowno  as  a  jewelry  engraver 
and  seal-cutter.  By  this  time  he  had  saved  nearly 
enough  to  pay  his  passage  to  New  York,  and  the 
following  year  he  reached  our  shores.  He  was  then 
scarcely  nineteen,  without  friends,  knowledge  of 
the  language  or  ready  funds.  For  a  while  he 
sold  matches  on  Fulton  Street,  and  then  graduated 
to  the  superior  opportunities  of  a  sweat-shop  in 
Brooklyn.  He  was  rescued  from  this  by  an 
advertisement  through  which  he  found  employ- 
ment with  a  jewelry  firm.  Meanwhile  his 
acquaintance  with  the  language  and  with  the 
local  conditions  was  improving,  and  it  was  not 
long  before  he  obtained  a  position  as  seal-cutter. 
Then  followed  an  engagement  with  Mr.  H.  Popper 
as  die-cutter  and  jewelry  engraver,  during  which 
he  came  to  the  notice  of  Professor  S.  H.  Oetinger, 
the  numismatist,  whose  collection  of  medals  seems 
to  have  awakened  in  the  yoimg  man  a  longing  to 
be  himself  an  artist.  In  1891  he  first  learned  to 
handle  clay  at  the  Cooper  Union  night  class,  but 
attended  only  for  a  month,  and  it  was  not 
imtil  1896  that  he  studied  drawing  iinder  Ward 
in  the  night  class  of  the  Academy  of  Design. 

Meanwhile,  in  1893,  he  had  started  for  himself 
in  business,  working  for  jewelry  and  silversmith 
fibrms;  steadily  improving  his  financial  conditions, 
but  becoming  more  and  more  impatient  under 


i68  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  restraints  which  the  exigencies  of  trade  placed 
upon  his  desire  to  be  an  artist.  I  should  judge 
that  these  years  of  material  comfortableness  may 
have  been  really  more  trying  to  him  than  the 
previous  lean  years.  Then,  work  and  food  and 
lodging  seemed  the  only  desirable  things ;  now  he 
was  in  labour  with  a  desire  that  exceeded  all 
others.  He  had  tasted  of  the  sweets  of  beauty 
and  become  conscious  of  having  something 
beautiful  within  himself,  might  he  but  learn  how 
to  express  it;  and  all  the  while  the  Gallios  of 
trade  "cared  for  none  of  those  things." 

This  period  of  probation  at  length  came  to  an 
end  in  1898,  by  which  time  he  had  saved  sufficient 
money  for  study  in  Paris.  A  little  time  before, 
in  connection  with  a  medal  for  the  Convention 
of  Charities  and  Corrections,  he  had  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Mr.  Samuel  P.  Avery.  But  the 
latter  had  for  some  time  been  acquainted  with 
him,  keeping  watch  over  his  progress  and  secretly 
helping  him  to  commissions.  Of  the  value  and 
encouragement  of  Mr.  Avery's  friendship  Brenner 
speaks  with  warm  gratitude.  Through  him  he 
obtained  an  introduction  to  Mr.  George  A.  Lucas, 
who  befriended  him  in  Paris  and  introduced  him 
to  Roty,  furnishing  him  with  commissions  while 
he  was  still  studying  in  the  latter's  atelier.  This 
he  entered  after  preliminary  studentship  in  the 


PORTRAIT   OF   C.    P.    HUXriNCrPON 
By    Victor    David    Brenner 


VICTOR  DAVID   BRENNER  169 

Julien  school,  and  became  the  assistant  as  well 
as  pupil  of  the  master.  His  progress  was  rapid, 
and  examples  of  his  work  are  already  to  be  found 
in  the  Paris  Mint,  Munich  Glyptothek,  Vienna 
Numismatic  Society,  the  Metropolitan  Museum 
and  the  Numismatic  Society,  New  York. 

Up  to  the  present  time  Brenner's  best  work 
has  been  portrait-plaques  and  the  heads  upon  the 
obverse  of  medals.  In  designs  which  involve  a 
decorative  treatment  he  has  been  less  happy. 
As  might  be  expected  of  one  whose  period  of 
study  has  been  so  short,  he  is  weak  in  composition 
and  freehand  drawing,  nor  does  he  display  much 
inventiveness  of  fancy.  On  the  other  hand,  he  has 
an  extraordinarily  direct  vision,  quickened  by 
experience  in  so  exacting  an  occupation  as  die- 
cutting,  and,  moreover,  a  very  mobile  S5mipathy. 
The  latter  helps  him  to  be  interested  at  once  in 
his  subject,  and  with  so  much  affection  and 
reverence  for  the  personality  that  his  portrayal 
exhibits  a  very  xmusual  degree  of  intimacy. 

Among  the  best  of  his  portraits  are  those  of 
William  Maxwell  Evarts,  J.  Sanford  Saltus  and 
George  Aloysius  Lucas,  whom  I  place  in  one  group ; 
and  those  of  M.  Vad6,  Edward  D.  Fulde  and 
M.  Lacour  in  another.  The  reasonableness  of 
the  separation  is  to  be  foimd  in  the  difference  of 
motive,  respectively,  illustrated  in  the  modelling; 


I70  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

the  more  distinctively  sculptural  as  compared 
with  the  painter-like  method. 

For  in  all  low-relief  work  one  will  find  the  artist 
to  be  showing  a  preference  either  for  form  and 
the  structural  character  of  the  subject,  or  for  its 
colour  qualities,  represented  by  delicate  variations 
in  the  planes,  which  produce  a  corresponding 
warmth  of  delicate  light  and  shade ;  in  a  word,  he 
feels  his  subject  either  in  the  rotmd  or  in  the  fiat. 
Which  you  yourself  will  prefer  is  a  question  of 
your  point  of  view.  Among  brother  artists  who 
are  painters  there  will  probably  be  a  verdict  in 
favour  of  the  second  group,  since  it  represents 
more  closely  what  they  themselves  strive  for, 
and  are  therefore  partial  to.  And  its  pictorial 
quality  may  equally  recommend  it  also  to  general 
approbation.  For,  indeed,  such  a  portrait  as  that 
of  M.  Vad6  is  tmquestionably  fascinating.  There 
is  in  it  scarce  any  resort  to  lines,  the  modelling 
being  effected  almost  entirely  by  planes,  at  once 
broad  and  subtle,  full  of  a  sense  of  colour  and 
giving  an  expression  of  dreaminess  to  the  face. 
Yet,  if  one  compares  this  portrait  with  either  of 
the  three  included  in  the  former  group,  it  is  to 
find  in  the  latter  a  compensating  virility  of  expres- 
sion, a  greater  dignity  of  structure  and  of  character. 

It  is  not  usual  to  find  these  two  very  opposite 
motives  of  technique  imited  in  one  artist.     But 


VICTOR  DAVID   BRENNER  171 

in  Brenner's  case  it  seems  to  restilt  from  an 
absence  of  all  artistic  parti  pris,  and  from  the 
freshness  of  interest  with  which  he  attacks  each 
subject,  so  that  the  latter  itself  reveals  to  him 
the  more  appropriate  manner  of  presenting  it. 
In  the  portrait  shown  in  the  accompanying 
illtistration  the  two  motives  seem  to  be  combined. 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE 


XII 

THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE 

T  N  all  ages  sculpture  has  been  intimately  allied 
with  architecture,  somewhat  as  the  blossom 
with  the  tree,  reaching  often  its  noblest  expression 
as  an  efflorescence  of  decoration  upon  the  surface 
of  a  building  or  as  separate  forms  within  it; 
springing  up  in  statue,  tomb  or  pulpit  like  bursts 
of  flowery  growth  in  the  forest.  Nature  in  a 
marvellous  way  adapts  the  colour  and  forms  of 
the  blossoms  to  the  character  and  structure  of 
the  tree  and  shapes  of  the  woodland  flowers; 
for  example,  the  foxglove  spiring  up  amid  the 
tree  tnmks  to  the  character  of  its  environment. 
In  the  spirit  of  this  example  the  sculptor  fashions 
his  designs  in  conformity  with  that  of  the  archi- 
tecture, whether  it  be  for  decoration  of  the 
building's  surface  or  for  a  separate  contributing 
feature. 

Such  cooperation  with  the  architect  demands  at 
once  fertility  of  imagination  and  considerable  self- 
restraint  ;  an  appreciation  of  the  larger  qualities 
of  design  as  displayed  in  the  architecttire,  mingled 

175 


176  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

with  a  natural  feeling  for  the  charm  of  minute  and 
exquisite  workmanship;  a  personal  feeling,  sub- 
ordinated to  the  main  design,  yet  in  this  subordina- 
tion finding  an  increase  of  force.  For  the  modelled 
ornament  is  itself  enriched  by  its  enrichment  of 
the  wall-surface;  and  the  statue  which  has  fine 
architecttire  for  its  setting  receives  therefrom 
additional  dignity,  provided  always  that  the 
sculptor  has  adapted  the  lines  of  his  figure  to  those 
of  the  architecture.  If  he  miss  the  spirit  of  the 
latter  and  design  his  subject  independently  his 
statue  loses  the  benefit  of  the  alliance  and  its 
importance  is  overpowered  by  the  necessary  pre- 
dominance of  the  architectural  effect.  Nor  is  the 
failure  to  secure  harmonious  relation  between  the 
sculpture  and  the  architecture  always  to  be  laid 
to  the  sculptor.  The  architect's  design  may  be 
lacking  in  taste  and  dignity ;  or,  if  good  in  itself, 
yet  without  adequate  or  any  provision  for  sculp- 
tural embellishment;  the  latter  being  resorted  to 
as  an  afterthought.  Examples  of  this  kind  are 
not  infrequent. 

The  best  opportunity  that  we  have  in  this 
country  of  studying  sculpture  in  its  relation  to 
architecture  is  in  the  Library  of  Congress,  for 
here  the  design  was  deliberately  planned  to 
include  sculpture  and  painted  decoration,  and  on 
a  scale  of  unusual  magnitude.     Some  critics  are 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE         177 

disposed  to  complain  of  an  overelaboration  in 
the  decorative  scheme,  but  at  least  every  item  of 
the  sculpture  was  organic  and  structural  in 
intention.  We  may  differ,  that  is  to  say,  as  to  the 
propriety  of  introducing  so  much  embellishment, 
but  the  latter  everywhere  grows  naturally  out  of 
its  position  and  has  its  closely  planned  function  in 
the  general  design. 

The  sculptural  decoration  of  the  staircase  hall 
was  entrusted  to  Philip  Martiny,  except  the 
figures  in  the  spandrils  over  the  main  arch  which 
fronts  you  as  you  enter.  These  were  executed  by 
Olin  L.  Warner — whose  work  has  been  reviewed 
in  another  chapter — and  in  their  Greek-like 
monumental  simplicity  and  repose,  their  freedom 
from  all  accessory  aids  to  decoration  and  their 
avowal  of  the  decorative  value  of  pure  form  they 
are  in  marked  contrast  to  the  French  spirit  of 
Martiny's  work.  For  the  latter,  a  naturalised 
Frenchman,  represents  the  French  training,  com- 
paratively unaffected  by  the  American  environ- 
ment. As  a  boy  he  was  employed  with  his  father 
in  modelling  and  carving  ornamental  designs ;  thus 
gaining  a  familiarity  with  ornament  before  he 
proceeded  to  study  it  systematically  as  a  designer, 
from  which  stage  he  passed  on  to  the  further 
studies  of  a  sculptor  of  the  figure.  The  feeling  for 
decoration  is  with  him  an  instinct,  cultivated  in 


I7S  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

the  best  of  all  schools,  that  of  practical  experience ; 
his  knowledge  of  historic  f omis  a  habit  of  memory, 
and  his  versatility  in  adapting,  skill  in  device 
and  manipulative  facility,  the  product  of  habitual 
practice. 

For  the  newel  posts  of  the  staircase  he  executed 
the  female  figures  holding  a  torch  aloft ;  but  these 
reveal  mainly  the  results  of  good  teaching.  They 
are  not  a  personal  expression  of  himself.  In  a 
seated  figure,  however,  designed  as  a  Soldiers* 
and  Sailors*  Memorial  for  Jersey  City,  he  reached 
a  very  considerable  degree  of  monumental  dignity ; 
yet  it  still  appears  to  be  true  that  his  real  bent  is 
toward  decoration.  In  this  he  displays  creative 
fancy  and  a  most  charming  faculty  in  the  use  of 
form.  Witness  this  marble  balustrade,  divided 
into  compartments  by  a  series  of  plain  posts, 
between  which  are  suspended  festoons  of  fruit 
and  flowers,  with  baby  forms  astride  them.  Each 
in  a  vein  of  playful  fancy  personifies  some  occupa- 
tion, art  or  science,  and  the  emblems  typifying 
them  are  introduced  as  accents  of  surprise  in  the 
composition.  The  whole  is  alive  with  graceful 
animation  and  yet  preserves  a  rhythmical  dignity, 
a  variety  in  uniformity,  like  the  play  of  notes  in 
succeeding  bars  of  music. 

Its  freedom  of  fancy  and  rich  effect  recall  the 
qualities  shown  in  Lorado  Taft's  decoration  of  the 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE         179 

Horticultural  Building  at  the  World's  Fair;  a 
decoration  of  rare  distinction.  Indeed  the  prime 
feature  of  this  artist's  work  at  its  best  is  the  decora- 
tive character  of  the  composition ;  as  in  **  The  Soli- 
tude of  the  Soul,"  which  involves  an  ideal  motive, 
but  is  perhaps  happiest  in  the  grouping  of  the 
nude  figures  around  the  mass  of  unhewn  rock. 

The  relief  ornament  in  the  ceiling  of  the  dome 
and  in  the  frieze  of  the  entablature  was 
modelled  by  Albert  Weinert.  He  was  limited  by 
the  architect  to  the  well-known  Roman  forms 
revived  by  the  sculptors  and  painters  of  the 
Italian  Renaissance,  but  has  treated  them  with  so 
much  individual  feeling  that  one  may  regret  he 
was  denied  the  opportimity  of  creating  the  designs. 
For  one  cause  of  the  dearth  of  decorative  sculptors 
in  America  may  very  reasonably  be  attributed  to 
the  hesitation  of  architects  to  permit  the  use  of 
any  forms  except  such  as  they  can  find  authority 
for  in  historic  ornament.  Martiny,  we  have  seen, 
was  allowed  to  invent  the  design  for  the  staircase ; 
a  qtiite  unusual  privilege,  which  has  resulted  in  a 
memorable  work  of  art,  almost  unique  in  the 
country.  Usually  the  architect  from  books  and 
photographs  indicates  what  forms  shall  be  adopted, 
and  these  are  reproduced  by  the  draftsmen  in 
working  drawings,  which  are  handed  over  to  a 
contractor  to  be  executed  by  joumeyTnen  modellers 


i8o  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

Their  business  is  to  copy  the  drawing  exactly.  If 
they  have  any  individuaHty  of  feeling  it  is  sup- 
pressed; the  divorce  between  design  and  crafts- 
manship is  perpetuated,  and  dry  conventionalism 
results.  In  the  degradation  of  design  which 
ensues  from  this  slavish  adherence  to  historic 
precedents,  producing,  be  it  noted,  not  a  revival 
of  the  precedent  but,  for  the  most  part,  a  dead, 
inert  copy,  a  thing  not  to  be  taken  seriously  as 
decoration,  the  sculptor  is  discouraged  from 
associating  himself  with  design.  He  may  have 
the  gift  of  decoration,  but  it  lies  imcultivated, 
since  he  will  not  work  except  with  reasonable 
liberty.  And  he  is  right,  for  the  only  decoration 
that  is  of  any  vital  worth  is  such  as  grows  under 
the  hand  of  a  man  whose  brain  has  conceived  it 
and  is  controlling  continually  its  growth.  He 
may  be  influenced  by  historic  precedent  or  be 
working  in  the  freedom  of  his  fancy ;  in  either  case, 
his  work  has  personal,  vital  significance.  Signifi- 
cantly bad  it  may  be,  and  this  I  suspect  is  the 
architect's  apprehension;  yet,  pirovided  it  have 
significance,  there  is  some  prospect  of  improve- 
ment :  just  as  we  reach  what  measiire  of  virtue  we 
have  through  our  faults.  For  of  all  men  the  most 
exasperating  is  he  who,  without  character  enough 
for  fault  or  virtue,  methodically  maintains  a  level 
of  innocuous  mediocrity.     Equally  exasperating 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE         i8i 

i&  decoration  of  this  kind,  and  it  is  a  kind  that  is 
prevalent  everywhere. 

The  dome  of  the  Library  is  supported  on  eight 
piers,  each  formed  of  a  cluster  of  columns,  one  of 
which  projects  more  prominently  than  the  rest 
and  is  surmoimted  by  a  figure  personifying  some 
department  of  civilised  life  or  thought.  Its  func- 
tion seems  to  be  to  prolong  the  upright  line  of 
the  pier  to  the  bottom  of  the  triangular  penden- 
tive  which  connects  the  spread  of  the  arches;  at 
any  rate,  those  figures  which  most  simply  suggest 
the  vertical  direction,  with  as  little  play  of  contour 
lines  as  possible,  appear  most  conformable  to  their 
position.  The  one  that  most  thoroughly  fulfils 
this  condition  is  the  figure  of  "Philosophy,"  by 
Bela  L.  Pratt.  One  arm  hangs  down,  the  other 
is  drawn  up  at  the  elbow  supporting  a  book;  the 
line  of  the  drapery  on  one  side  comes  squarely 
down  to  the  feet  and  on  the  other  is  slightly  varied 
by  the  drawing  back  of  the  leg  from  the  knee.  The 
figure  is  of  ample  proportion,  with  a  sweet  gravity 
of  mien;  the  head,  being  slightly  bowed,  which, 
as  it  is  viewed  from  below,  brings  the  face  agree- 
ably within  the  line  of  vision ;  a  point  that  has  been 
overlooked  in  some  of  the  other  statues.  Without 
having  any  particular  force,  the  figure  nevertheless 
impresses  by  the  sobriety  of  its  lines  and  mass 
and  by  its  reserve  of  feeling.     The  value  of  these 


xSa  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

qualities  can  best  be  appreciated  when  one  is 
actually  standing  in  the  dome  and  able  to  compare 
the  figure  with  the  other  corresponding  ones,  all  of 
which  by  reason  of  more  varied  contours  seem 
inferior  to  it  in  decorative  appropriateness. 

This  same  sculptor  was  entrusted  with  the 
designs  of  the  six  spandrils  over  the  entrance 
doors.  The  forms  are  graceful  and  repeat  with 
pleasant  variation  the  curve  of  the  arch,  but 
they  do  not  adequately  fill  the  space,  and  are 
wanting  in  architectonic  character.  Just  what 
I  mean  can  better  be  imderstood  by  comparing 
them  with  Warner's  spandrils,  mentioned  above. 
Then  one  can  scarcely  fail  to  notice  how  much 
more  structural  in  feeling  are  the  latter,  organic- 
ally related  to  the  arches  and  to  the  space,  truly 
architectural  in  their  character.  Pratt's  strong- 
est point  seems  to  be  expression  of  sentiment, 
exemplified  in  his  busts  of  Colonel  Henry  Lee 
and  of  Phillips  Brooks;  in  some  low-relief  por- 
traits of  children  and  in  the  heroic  figure  of  a 
soldier  for  St.  Paul's  School,  Concord,  New 
Hampshire.  In  all  of  these  it  is  not  so  much 
the  characteristics  preeminently  sculptural  that 
we  are  conscious  of,  as  the  quality  of  the  senti- 
ment; and  this  same  quality,  portrayed  with 
graceful  inventiveness,  represents  the  meastu'a 
of  his  architectural  decoration.     It  is,  therefore. 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE        183 

in  such  examples  as  the  medalUons  in  the  pavilions 
of  the  Library,  personifying  the  four  seasons, 
that  he  appears  at  his  best;  for  in  these  the 
sentiment  is  expressed  not  only  by  suavity  of 
line,  but  by  a  sensitive  treatment  of  the  various 
planes.  Like  his  low-relief  portraits  they  have 
very  strongly  the  pictorial  quality.  That  he 
has,  however,  a  feeling  as  well  for  the  sculptural 
quality  of  form  is  evident  from  two  nude  female 
figures  which  he  has  executed  in  marble,  "Study 
of  a  Young  Girl"  and  "Study  for  a  Foimtain," 
in  which  the  charm  of  sentiment  and  form  are 
very  happily  tmited. 

It  is  not  within  the  scope  of  this  essay,  which 
is  considering  the  principles  of  architectural 
sculpture,  to  note  each  of  the  remaining  seven 
statues  in  detail,  especially  since  most  of  them 
are  by  sculptors  whose  work  has  been  reviewed 
elsewhere.  And  the  same  applies  to  the  sixteen 
bronze  statues  that  stand  below  upon  the  marble 
balustrade  of  the  gallery.  These  represent  real 
or  imaginary  portraits  of  men  illustrious  in  the 
departments  of  civilised  Ufe  and  thought,  personi- 
fied above,  and  their  function  is  to  relieve  by  a 
series  of  spiring  forms  the  level  lines  of  the  balus- 
trade. And  here  again,  if  I  am  not  mistaken, 
those  which  with  least  disturbance  of  contour 
conform  to  the  character  of  a  simple  shaft  are 


i84  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

the  most  effective.  Thus  we  may  be  disposed 
to  feel  that,  viewed  in  relation  to  its  position 
and  function,  the  "Solon"  by  F.  Wellington 
Ruckstuhl  protests  too  much  its  own  individuality, 
and  that  the  greater  reserve  of  C.  E.  Dallin's 
"Newton,"  of  John  J.  Boyle's  "Bacon"  and 
"Plato,"  of  Paul  W.  Bartlett's  "Michelangelo," 
of  Edward  C.  Potter's  "Fulton,"  of  Charles  H. 
Niehaus's  "  Gibbon,"  of  George  E.  Bissell's  "  Kent" 
and  the  "Henry"  by  Herbert  Adams,  makes 
them  more  valuable  as  sculptural  adornments 
to  the  architecture.  And,  after  all,  this  qualifi- 
cation is  the  most  important  one  in  the  interest 
both  of  the  architecture  and  of  the  statue  itself. 
If  it  were  possible  to  study  the  statues  inde- 
pendently of  their  surroimdings  we  might  find 
that  some  I  have  mentioned  are  intrinsically 
inferior  to  some  of  those  omitted;  and  I  well 
remember  that  some  which  now  fill  their  present 
position  with  quiet  effectiveness  seemed  less 
interesting  before  they  were  put  in  place.  For 
the  ultimate  test  of  the  statue,  as  a  part  of  the 
architectural  scheme,  depends  less  upon  its 
intrinsic  than  its  extrinsic  value;  not  so  much 
upon  what  it  is  as  upon  how  it  cooperates  with  the 
architecture,  lending  it  some  accent  of  piquancy 
or  elaboration  and  drawing  from  it  dignity  and 
enforcement.     Nor  is  the  truth  of  this  weakened 


THE   DECORATIVE  MOTIVE         185 

by  the  fact  that  you  visit  many  a  church  in  Italy 
solely  to  study  some  piece  of  sculpture  without 
one  thought  of  the  architecttire,  unless  it  be  a 
regret  that  the  shrine  is  not  worthy  of  its  treasure. 
In  such  a  case  the  intention  of  the  sculpture  was 
not  architectonic;  whereas  in  the  Library  of 
Congress,  as  in  all  other  buildings  in  which  the 
cooperation  of  the  sculptor  has  been  deliberately 
included,  the  ideal  is  to  make  the  two  arts  mutu- 
ally reenforcing.  The  architecture  being  neces- 
sarily predominant,  the  sculpture  which  does 
not  conform  to  the  limitations  imposed  upon  it 
will  suffer  by  comparison,  while,  on  the  other 
hand,  through  conformity  it  will  secure  additional 
meastire  of  impressiveness. 

Of  the  elaborate  decoration  of  the  rotunda 
clock  by  John  Flanagan  I  cannot  speak  from 
knowledge;  and,  without  having  seen  it  in  place, 
it  is  imfair  to  judge  of  the  effect  of  the  mingling 
of  precise  elegance  in  the  lower  part  with  the 
florid  arrangement  above  of  Father  Time  and 
two  female  figures.  But  before  leaving  the 
Library  we  may  find  in  the  corridors  of  the 
entrance  hall  four  relief -panels,  by  R.  Hinton 
Perry,  personifying  Greek,  Roman,  Persian  and 
Scandinavian  "Inspiration."  They  seem  to  me 
to  represent  this  sculptor  at  his  best,  displaying 
a  gift  of  imagination  and  very  charming  treat- 


i86  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

ment  of  form,  regulated  by  reserve  and  tsste; 
for  these  last  q\ialities  are  not  so  conspicuous  in 
some  of  his  work.  The  foimtain  group,  for 
example,  which  embellishes  the  terrace  in  front 
of  the  Library,  is  a  clever  exhibition  of  technical 
skill  in  the  representation  of  form  and  movement, 
but  pretentious.  Its  lack  of  cohesion  as  a  group 
may  have  been  less  the  affair  of  the  sculptor  than 
of  the  architect,  since  the  latter  had  provided  for 
the  figures  three  equal-sized  niches ;  but  on  the 
other  hand  the  sculptor  seems  to  have  regarded 
them  as  features  to  be  ignored.  His  central 
figure  of  Neptime  is  entirely  outside  the  arch, 
while  the  sea-nymphs  on  their  restive  steeds 
seem  to  be  trying  to  get  clear  of  the  architectural 
restraint.  Restiveness,  indeed,  is  the  chief  sug- 
gestion of  the  whole;  an  uneasy  collocation  of 
aggressive  forms,  out  of  keeping  with  the  some- 
what severe  character  of  the  Library  facades. 

Yet  one  should  not  overlook  the  indubitable 
power  and  vigour  of  these  figures,  especially  of 
the  Nepttme;  only  regretting  that  imagination 
has  entered  so  little  into  its  composition.  In 
this  respect  the  "  Primitive  Man  and  Serpent," 
a  later  statue,  is  much  more  acceptable.  It  also 
has  power,  the  more  effective  that  its  energy  has 
been  controlled^  and  the  sculptor,  in  thinking  out 
this  conflict  between  creatures  of  such  different 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE        187 

forms,  has  produced  a  composition  which  is  full 
of  imagination  and  very  statuesque.  Again 
he  exhibits  his  mastery  of  form  in  a  statue  of 
"Circe";  a  finely  poised,  supple  figure,  with  a 
superb  action  of  voluptuous  invitation.  More- 
over, the  conception  is  satisfactorily  idealised,  a 
quality  which  does  not  always  characterise  his 
treatment  of  the  female  form.  The  one,  for 
instance,  in  the  group  of  "The  Lion  in  Love  "  is  a 
very  ordinary  reproduction  of  the  model;  nor 
can  I  find  in  his  Langdon  doors  for  the  Buffalo 
Historical  Society's  Building,  the  same  imagina- 
tive control  of  form  as  in  the  Library  reliefs. 
Perry,  in  fact,  seems  to  be  an  impetuous,  forceful 
person,  drawing  largely  upon  his  temperament 
and  with  the  imevenness  of  result  very  usual  in 
such  cases.  Yet  he  has  a  mastery  of  technique 
so  much  above  the  average  that,  when  he  regu- 
lates it  with  reserve  and  kindles  it  from  his 
imagination,  he  produces  work  which  is  full  of 
interest. 

In  this  brief  survey  of  the  decorative  sculpture 
of  the  Library  of  Congress  it  has  been  possible 
to  touch  only  upon  some  of  the  most  conspicuous 
featiu-es,  but  much  else  that  is  worthy  of  study 
upon  the  spot  will  be  found  scattered  over  the 
big  building,  especially  in  the  private  reading- 
rooms  of  the  Senate  and  of  the  House  of  Repre- 


i88  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

sentatives.  The  scheming  and  supervision  of 
this  vast  amount  of  beautiful  detail  was  the  work 
of  Edward  Pearce  Casey,  an  architect  with 
considerable  knowledge  of  decoration  and  feeling 
for  it.  In  some  cases  he  was  cooperating  with 
sculptors  who  had  had  no  previous  experience 
in  decorative  work,  and  he  was  himself 
without  practical  experience,  having  but  re- 
cently returned  from  his  studies  at  the  Ecole 
des  Beaux  Arts,  and  the  bias  of  his  taste, 
if  I  mistake  not,  was  toward  the  exuberance 
and  profuseness  of  Roman  ornament.  When, 
therefore,  we  take  into  consideration  the  vast- 
ness  and  varied  features  of  the  undertaking, 
we  can  scarcely  avoid  the  conclusion  that  it  has 
been  upon  the  whole  very  well  carried  out; 
probably  quite  as  well  as  was  possible  under  the 
conditions  of  having  to  complete  so  huge  a  work 
by  a  given  date.  For  one  of  the  difficulties  with 
which  our  artists,  architects,  sculptors  and 
painters  aUke  have  to  contend  is  the  inexorable 
public  demand  that  the  building  with  all  its 
embellishments  shall  be  "turned  over  "  on  con^ 
tract  time.  Very  few  men  are  sufficiently  sure 
of  their  position,  and  likewise  possessed  of  suffi- 
cient conscience  in  the  matter,  to  insist  upon 
adequate  time  for  the  development  of  their 
decorative  scheme. 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE         189 

This  insistence  upon  securing  as  far  as  possible 
an  ultimate  perfection  of  detail,  guided  by  a 
judgment  and  taste  of  tmusual  refinement,  is  a 
notable  characteristic  of  the  architect,  Charles 
F.  McKim,  as  it  is  also  of  the  sculptor,  Augustus 
Saint-Gaudens.  Hence  to  this  day  the  pedestals 
in  front  of  the  Boston  Public  Library  are  without 
the  groups  of  statuary  that  the  latter  is  to  exe- 
cute. Again,  as  an  example  of  choiceness  and 
reserve  in  the  sculptural  decoration  of  a  building, 
one  may  cite  McKim's  treatment  of  the  facades 
of  the  University  Club,  New  York.  Indeed, 
they  are  quite  too  choice  and  reserved  to  satisfy 
the  popular  taste,  and  it  is  the  latter  which 
unfortunately  regulates  in  the  majority  of 
instances  the  character  of  our  public  buildings, 
with  an  inevitable  tendency  toward  pretentious- 
ness of  mass  and  floridness  of  detail.  On  the 
other  hand,  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  sculptor, 
McKim's  influence  has  been  too  personal,  too 
exclusively  along  the  line  of  reproducing  the 
style  and  feeUng  of  antique  art,  to  have  been  of 
much  direct  benefit  to  the  development  of  deco- 
rative sculpture  in  this  coimtry.  He  is,  perhaps, 
too  intolerant  of  failure  to  venture  upon 
experiments. 

For  certainly  the  development  has  been  at- 
tended with  some  results  to  which  it  is  impos- 


19©  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

sible  to  point  with  appreciation.  Do  we  find  an 
example  of  this  In  the  Appellate  Court  in  New 
York?  Its  exterior  is  profusely  covered  with 
sculpture ;  but  can  one  truly  feel  that  it  is  decora- 
tive ?  On  the  contrary,  it  may  occur  to  some 
that  the  building  would  have  had  more  dignity 
unadorned ;  that  it  is  overloaded ;  its  quiet  lines 
disturbed  by  the  flutter  of  forms  against  the  sky ; 
that  the  figures  themselves  lack  the  decorative 
quality,  dryly  formal  in  some  instances  and  in 
others  without  sufficient  reserve  of  line  and  mass ; 
overpowering,  in  fact,  the  structure,  while  indi- 
vidually, at  the  distance  from  which  they  are  seen, 
of  not  much  moment. 

Civic  pride,  doubtless  not  iminfluenced  by  the 
discovery  that  there  is  a  commercial  value  in 
esthetics,  has  led  to  the  embellishing  of  office 
bmldings  and  hotels  with  sculpture.  With  the 
former  continually  increasing  their  vertical  direc- 
tion, it  has  been  no  easy  matter  to  devise  for  them 
a  suitable  kind  of  plastic  decoration.  Perhaps 
the  most  appropriate  has  been  the  flat  orna- 
mentation, occasionally  burgeoning  into  roimded 
forms,  which  Louis  H.  Sullivan,  a  Chicago  archi- 
tect, has  used.  He  has  the  advantage  of  being  hit 
own  designer  for  decoration  as  well  as  for  struc- 
ture; and  having  a  very  logical  mind  he  designs 
both  with  a  strict  regard  for  organic  propriety, 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE         191 

while  his  fecund  imagination  enables  him  to 
create  freely  forms  of  inexhaustible  variety  and 
full  of  the  charm  of  vital  freshness. 

In  the  case  of  many  office  buildings,  especially 
those  erected  some  years  ago,  the  sculpture  has 
the  appearance  of  being  added  as  an  afterthought, 
so  inadequate  is  the  provision  made  for  it.  There 
is  a  conspicuous  instance  of  this  on  lower  Broad- 
way, New  York,  four  colossal  figures  in  bronze 
by  J.  Massey  Rhind  being  placed  upon  a  pro- 
jecting cornice  some  twenty  feet  above  the  level 
of  the  street.  They  have  no  structural  relation 
to  the  building  and  thereby  lose  much  of  their 
effectiveness. 

This  sculptor,  a  native  of  Edinburgh,  where 
his  family,  as  architects  and  otherwise,  have  long 
been  identified  with  the  civic  improvements  that 
have  gradually  made  the  modem  city  so  con- 
spicuously handsome,  is  one  of  the  most  skilful  of 
our  architectural  sculptors.  He  has  not  the  play 
of  fancy  nor  the  graceful  facility  in  decorative 
forms  displayed  by  Martiny;  but,  instead,  a 
strong  instinct  for  big  simplicity  of  design,  and 
for  the  constructional  value  of  the  figure  as  an 
adjimct  to  the  architecture.  When,  as  in  the 
spandrils  for  the  Smith  Memorial  Arch  at  Phila- 
delphia, he  is  elaborating  a  part  of  the  struc- 
ture, he  works  with  as  much  of  the  feeling  of  an 


192  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

architect  as  of  a  sculptor,  showing  an  tmmis- 
takable  appreciation  of  the  material.  In  the  case 
of  these  spandrils  it  is  granite,  and  the  treatment 
of  the  drapery  and  wings  has  been  admirably 
adapted  to  the  quality  and  character  of  the 
material  and  to  the  exigencies  of  cutting,  A 
similar  recognition  of  the  claims  of  the  material 
is  displayed  in  some  granite  lions,  designed  for 
the  Ehret  mausoleum  in  Woodlawn  Cemetery, 
and  again  in  the  caryatides,  executed  in  pink 
Tennessee  marble  for  the  Macy  Building  in 
New  York.  The  latter,  moreover,  are  particu- 
larly successful  in  suggesting  their  architectural 
function  of  carrying  a  superincumbent  weight, 
rigidity  of  form  and  gi'ace  of  line  being  f ortimately 
mingled.  Among  the  varied  subjects  which  have 
occupied  this  sculptor  is  an  elaborate  foimtain 
for  "Georgian  Court  "  at  Lakewood,  New  Jersey. 
The  design  comprises  a  male  figtire,  almost  nude, 
standing  in  a  chariot  formed  of  a  huge  shell, 
these  parts  being  in  bronze,  while  the  sea-horses 
that  he  drives  and  the  attendant  Nereids  are  of 
marble.  The  composition,  enclosed  within  a 
circular  basin  and  rising  pyramidally  toward 
the  centre,  is  full  of  spirit,  with  especial 
force  and  freedom  of  movement  in  the  marble 
portions.  Yet  it  is  probably  true  that  J.  Massey 
Rhind  discovers  his  best  qualities  as  a  sculptor 


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THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE         193 

in  less  exuberant  designs.  Indeed,  his  most 
impressive  work,  within  my  knowledge,  I  should 
take  to  be  the  recumbent  portrait-statue  of  Father 
Brown  in  the  Church  of  Saint  Mary-the- Virgin  in 
New  York.  It  is  very  tnily  monumental,  with 
an  exquisite  placidity  and  tender  gravity  of 
feeling ;  the  lines  of  the  figure  severely  simple,  the 
vestments,  notwithstanding  some  elaboration  of 
delicate  detail,  subordinated  so  completely  to  the 
form,  and  the  latter  in  its  supple  fixity  express- 
ive of  the  eternal  calm  of  the  head.  It  is  a 
figure  from  which  emanates  a  very  tmusual 
atmosphere  of  spirituality. 

I  wonder  if  there  is  not  more  incentive  to  revere 
the  memory  of  a  man  in  a  memorial  like  this, 
representing  him  folded  in  the  sleep  of  death, 
than  in  one  which  figures  him  as  he  lived !  Yet 
the  latter  is  the  more  usual  method  in  this  coun- 
try, possibly  because  of  the  lack  of  space  in  city 
churches.  Saint-Gaudens  has  done  some  mem- 
orable work  in  this  direction,  notably  in  the 
portrait-panels  of  James  McCosh  at  Princeton, 
and  of  Doctor  Bellows  in  the  Church  of  All  Souls, 
New  York;  so  too  have  French  and  Herbert 
Adams.  Again  in  mural  tablets,  bearing  instead 
of  a  portrait  some  ideal  figure,  work  of  technical 
merit  and  of  very  beautiful  spirit  has  been  done 
by  Clement  J.  Barnhom  of  Cincinnati.    Especially 


194  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

would  I  mention  an  angel  design  of  his  for  the 
Poland  Memorial  and  a  "  Madonna  of  the  Lilies." 
In  both  these  low  reliefs  he  displays  a  quite 
exquisite  appreciation  of  the  beauty  of  sim- 
plicity of  design,  of  the  expression  of  tender 
differences  of  plane,  and  of  the  mingling  of  firm 
and  vanishing  lines.  Nor  in  the  refinement  of 
treatment  is  the  structural  character  of  the 
figure  and  drapery  lost. 

DOMESTIC    DESIGN 

Among  the  various  decorative  designs  by 
Bamhom  is  one  for  a  cottage  piano,  carved  in 
wood.  Conventionalised  tree-forms  compose  the 
legs,  extend  a  bough  from  each  side  along  the  lower 
part  of  the  keyboard  and  then  mount  up  the  sides 
and  spread  their  foliage  in  a  canopy  along  the  top, 
a  draped  figure  occupying  the  centre  of  the  front. 
The  design  has  one  good  feature,  that  it  grows 
out  of  and  expresses  the  character  of  the  material. 
Yet  it  deviates  from  what  experience  suggests  to 
be  worth  regarding  as  an  axiom:  that  in  such 
objects  as  are  actually  a  part  of  the  structure  of  a 
room,  for  instance  a  mantelpiece,  or  in  those 
which  by  their  size  and  importance  emphasise 
their  structural  character,  the  contours  should 
conform  to  the  straight  and  curved  lines,  which 
experience  has  foimd  necessary  in  architecture. 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE         195 

In  a  word,  that  the  structure  of  the  object  should 
be  first  attained  and  the  decoration  then  sub- 
ordinated to  it,  instead  of  the  latter  being  allowed 
to  encroach  upon  the  structural  lines.  An  ivy- 
mantled  tower  takes  its  place  suitably  in  an  open- 
air  setting ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  a  small  object 
indoors,  such  as  a  clock  on  a  shelf,  may  asstmie 
any  variety  of  outline ;  but  with  the  larger,  formal 
ones,  whether  built  into,  or  detached  within,  the 
room,  you  cannot  indulge  in  irregular  contours 
without  making  them  amorphous,  more  or  less 
clumsy  or  else  trivial.  And  this  piano  seems 
open  to  the  charge  of  cumbersomeness,  which 
again  offends  the  instinct  of  the  musician,  who 
would  feel  in  the  instrument  a  suggestion  of 
yielding  to  the  vibrations  of  the  music — a  f  eeHng 
so  prominent  in  the  delicate  simplicity  of  the 
violin  and  to  be  desired  in  the  form  of  all  instru- 
ments. Yet  one  welcomes  in  this  piano  the 
inventiveness  of  fancy  displayed,  and  the  skill 
and  individuality  of  the  craftsmanship,  delighted 
to  find  an  American  sculptor  applying  his  art  to 
the  intimacies  of  domestic  design. 

Among  the  few  sculptors  who  have  used  the 
figure  decoratively  in  the  arts  of  minor  design 
none  has  displayed  a  livelier  imagination  or  a 
more  charming  facility  than  Henry  Linder.  His 
little    conceptions     for     candlesticks,    inkwells. 


196  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

electric -light  stands  and  other  objects  of  domestic 
use  are  ftill  of  grace  and  spirit.  Another  decora- 
tive sculptor  of  rare  feeling  and  unusual  technical 
resources  is  M.  M.  Schwarzott.  I  remember  well 
a  panel  of  his  representing  fishes  sporting  in  the 
waves,  which,  as  Mr.  Hartmann  fitly  observes,  is 
worthy  of  a  Japanese  coppersmith. 

That  very  few  sculptors  have  devoted  them- 
selves to  domestic  design  is  due  as  well  to  the 
dearth  of  really  decorative  genius  among  them 
as  to  the  claims  of  other  commissions  upon  the 
time  of  those  few  who  possess  it.  Partly, 
perhaps,  to  a  prevalence  of  "high-art"  notions, 
which  regard  a  statue  as,  of  itself,  more  worthy 
than  a  decorated  object,  irrespective  of  the  skill 
and  craftsmanship  or  the  beauty  of  the  design 
involved.  Yet,  I  doubt  if  a  prejudice  of  this 
sort  would  deter  a  man  really  possessed  of  the 
decorative  instinct.  It  is  the  lack  of  this  and  of 
appreciation  on  the  part  of  the  public  for  personal 
work  which  forms  a  bar  to  our  advancement  in 
the  arts  of  design;  this  and  the  preference  of  the 
architects  for  reproducing  commercially  the  time- 
honoured  forms.  Encouraged  by  them  our  rich 
people  prefer  a  room  in  which  every  detail  is 
dryly  imitated  from  a  dead  period  to  one  animated 
by  the  art  and  spirit  of  to-day.  So  they  take 
their   morning  coffee  a    la  Louis  Quinze;  their 


THE  DECORATIVE  MOTIVE         197 

luncheon  in  a  Dutch  kitchen;  drop  into  an 
affectation  of  Japan  for  a  cup  of  afternoon  tea; 
dine  in  the  splendour  of  the  Grand  Monarque; 
sip  their  liqueurs  in  Pompeii,  and  rest  at  length 
from  this  jumble  of  inert  impressions  in  a  chamber 
a  VEmpire.  Small  wonder  if  their  appreciation 
of  art  should  be  a  pose  and  their  actual  encoiirage- 
ment  of  it  nearly  null ! 

OPEN-AIR    DECORATION 

The  first  great  opportimity  in  this  country  for 
sculptors  to  prove  their  capacity  in  the  larger 
field  of  outdoor  decoration  was  presented  by  the 
World's  Fair  at  Chicago,  and  it  brought  into 
prominence  three  animal  sculptors,  E.  C.  Potter, 
Edward  Kemeys  and  A.  Phimister  Proctor. 
The  first  named  collaborated  with  French  in  the 
quadriga  above  the  water-gate  and  in  the  groups 
of  the  "Bull"  and  "Farm  Horse"  in  front  of  the 
Agricultural  Building,  displaying  in  the  one  case 
a  fine  command  of  spirited  movement  and  in 
the  other  a  feeling  for  large  simplicity.  These 
qualities  he  combined  most  effectively  in  the 
equestrian  statue  of  Washington  for  the  Place 
de  J^na  in  Paris,  in  which  again  his  collaborator 
was  French.  The  "Wild  Cats"  by  Kemeys, 
which  stood  upon  the  ends  of  two  of  the  bridges, 
were    quite    extraordinary    examples    of   animal 


iqS  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

sculpture.  Their  stealthy,  supple  movement,  as, 
bellies  low  to  the  groimd,  they  advanced  with 
that  slow,  clinging  step  which  precedes  the  spring, 
represented  the  closest  study  of  the  naturalist, 
while  the  treatment  of  the  lines  and  masses  was 
altogether  a  sculptor's,  monumental  in  a  high 
degree. 

Proctor  also  is  a  naturalist  and  ardent  sports- 
man, camping  alone  for  weeks  together  in  the 
forests  and  studying  the  big  game  at  close  quar- 
ters. Perhaps  his  instinct  is  naturalistic  rather 
than  sculptural.  At  any  rate,  the  strongest  fea- 
tiu-e  of  his  work  is  its  realism ;  yet  his  "  Pumas, "  at 
one  entrance  of  Prospect  Park,  Brooklyn,  shows 
a  fair  measure  of  monumental  feeling.  The 
quadriga  which  he  modelled  for  the  United  States 
pavilion  at  the  Paris  Exposition  was  dwarfed 
by  the  structure,  but  when  reproduced  for  the 
Ethnological  building  at  the  Pan-American 
Exposition  proved  extremely  effective.  On  this 
occasion,  however,  it  was  only  a  part  of  the 
structure's  embellishment  and  not  a  single 
emphatic  note,  for  which  purpose  it  was  too 
slight  in  composition,  unduly  stringy  and  deficient 
in  cohesion.  Proctor  himself  had  felt  it  to  be 
so,  and  the  lesson  was  not  lost  upon  him,  for  in 
his  next  opportunity  of  essaying  an  important 
composition    he    produced    something    of    much 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE        199 

more  sculptural  import.  This  was  a  group 
executed  for  the  Pan-American  Exposition,  which 
embodied  the  idea  of  "Agriculture,"  representing 
a  man  at  the  plow-tail,  while  a  boy  tirged  on 
the  team,  a  horse  and  an  ox.  It  was  a  very 
remarkable  example  of  the  force  of  realism,  when 
governed  by  the  sculptural  intention.  The  mass 
was  most  imposing  and  full  of  variety  of  move- 
ment, through  the  contrast  afforded  by  the  figures : 
the  horse  vigorously  straining  at  the  traces, 
the  ox  exerting  his  slow,  lumbering  weight;  the 
boy  in  free  action,  while  the  man's  was  con- 
centrated and  checked.  Moreover,  it  told  its 
story  so  simply  and  directly,  with  such  complete 
recognition  of  the  essential  points.  As  a  piece 
of  artistic  realism,  it  was  alive  with  the  spirit  of 
Millet — altogether  a  most  memorable  work. 

At  this  exposition  was  also  seen  a  quadriga 
by  Frederick  G.  R.  Roth.  His  previous  work 
had  consisted  of  statuettes  executed  in  bronze, 
revealing  a  close  study  of  unusual  kinds  of  action, 
such  as  that  of  an  elephant  balancing  himself 
upon  a  tub.  He  modelled  a  pair  of  these  in 
which  the  mass  is  poised,  respectively,  upon  the 
forelegs  and  the  hind  ones.  Although  they  are 
very  small  in  size  they  are  large  in  feeling,  with 
breadth  of  modelling  and  enforcement  of  the 
suggestion     of     bulk    and     weightiness.       The 


200  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

expression  of  movement  is  admirable:  felt  con- 
tinuously throughout  the  mass  and  varying  so 
characteristically,  according  as  each  part  con- 
tributes to  the  action.  Nor  does  he  neglect  to 
secure  the  surface-charm  of  colour  and  texture 
in  his  bronzes ;  and  these  little  objects  of  art  make 
very  choice  appeal  to  sight  and  touch.  This 
charm  of  surface  is  accompanied  by  a  more 
vigorous  display  of  movement  in  a  group,  which 
represents  "The  Combat"  between  an  elephant 
and  a  rhinoceros.  The  latter,  with  hind  legs 
planted  as  firmly  as  trees,  is  ramming  his  horn 
into  the  belly  of  the  other  beast,  who  has  rolled 
over  on  his  side  and  is  lifting  head  and  tnmk  in 
a  spasm  of  pain.  Again  our  interest  is  divided 
between  the  extraordinary  realism  of  the  repre- 
sentation and  the  beauty  of  the  surfaces,  shown 
especially  in  the  slabs  and  corrugations  of  the 
rhinoceros.  The  stress  of  movement  is  carried 
still  further  in  the  quadriga.  It  is  an  incident 
of  a  "  Chariot  Race  " ;  the  vehicle  has  been  whirled 
on  to  one  wheel,  and  the  driver  is  throwing  his 
weight  upon  the  opposite  side  to  restore  the 
balance,  at  the  same  time  holding  back  with  all 
his  force  against  the  strength  of  the  four  galloping 
horses.  This  group,  of  full  size,  executed  in 
plaster,  cannot  fail  to  impress  one  both  by  its 
daring  and  by  the  knowledge  and  power  displayed. 


THE   DECORATIVE   MOTIVE        201 

Whether  it  completely  convinces  one's  imagination 
is  less  certain.  The  figure  of  the  man  does,  so 
also  that  of  the  horse  which  is  plimging  in  mid- 
air ;  but  the  hind  legs  of  the  others  and  the  chariot 
wheel  seem  rooted  to  the  groimd,  thereby  clogging 
the  impetus  of  movement.  The  group,  in  fact, 
raises  an  interesting  point  as  to  the  limitation 
of  the  sculptor.  A  painter  could  give  the  wheel 
an  appearance  of  revolving,  could  raise  a  cloud 
of  dust  aroimd  the  heels  of  the  horses  and  by 
the  introduction  of  atmosphere  resolve  the 
rigidity  of  lines.  Correspondingly,  if  this  group 
were  raised  to  an  elevation  so  that  the  juncture 
of  the  wheels  and  legs  with  the  groimd  were  not 
observable,  and  the  whole  by  distance  were 
enveloped  in  atmosphere,  the  effect  upon  the 
imagination  would  be  vastly  increased,  probably 
complete.  But  when  it  was  seen  at  Buffalo, 
on  a  low  pedestal  close  to  the  eye,  the  deficiencies 
of  illtision  were  as  apparent  as  they  are  in  the 
accompanying  illustration.  However,  granted 
that  the  illusion  would  be  complete,  we  may 
question  the  propriety  of  expressing  in  ^^^'Ipture 
such  violent  movement  of  progression.  If 
stationary,  an  equal  vehemence  might  still  be 
monimiental;  but  can  one  imagine  any  structure 
upon  which,  without  detriment  to  its  stability 
and  impressiveness,   this  restless  mass,  hurling 


303  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

itself  forward  from  its  position,  could  be  placed  ? 
Therefore,  the  sculptor  seems  to  have  landed 
himself  in  the  predicament  of  needing  something 
which  he  has  made  it  impossible  for  himself  to 
procure;  due,  if  I  mistake  not,  to  his  having 
forced  the  medium  beyond  its  characteristic 
limits. 

Eli  Harvey's  observation  of  wild  animals  in 
confinement  has  resulted  in  some  excellent  statues 
of  lions,  jaguars  and  leopards,  all  of  which  would 
be  eminently  suitable  for  the  embellishment  of 
public  parks.  In  two  cases  he  has  used  lions 
as  the  motive  for  decorating  pediments  intended 
for  the  lion  house  of  the  New  York  Zoological 
Society.  His  work  is  at  once  very  true  to  life 
and  thoroughly  sculpturesque. 

In  all  probability,  however,  the  finest  animal 
group  which  has  yet  been  produced  in  this  coimtry 
is  the  "Buffaloes"  by  H.  K.  Bush-Brown.  It 
has  been  reproduced  as  a  statuette  in  bronze, 
and  in  this  form  is  a  powerful  and  impressive 
work,  but  to  appreciate  to  the  full  its  con- 
spicuouslv  monumental  character,  the  dignity 
of  its  bulk  and  of  its  massed  and  rooted  energy, 
one  must  have  seen  it  in  the  original  colossal 
size.  Well  placed  in  the  natural  surroundings  of 
a  park,  it  would  present  a  spectacle  of  re- 
markable grandeiir.     This  sculptor,  like  his  imcle, 


THE   DECORATIVE  MOTIVE        203"^ 

Henry  Kirke  Brown,  the  sculptor  of  the 
equestrian  statues  of  Washington  and  General 
Scott,  is  a  horseman,  and  his  own  equestrian 
statues  display  a  thorough  knowledge,  but  scarcely 
that  imposing  dignity  of  mass,  which  the 
biiild  of  the  btiffalo  made  possible  for  this 
group. 

Whereas  at  the  Chicago  Exposition  the  gaiety 
of  the  sculptural  embellishment,  with  the 
exception  of  the  Macmonnies's  fountain,  was 
concentrated  on  the  buildings,  and  the  arrange- 
ment of  statues  and  groups  about  the  grounds 
had  been  regulated  with  reserve,  one  motive  of 
the  Pan-American  was  to  demonstrate  con- 
spicuously how  sculpture  could  be  used  in  the 
decoration  of  open  spaces.  There  must  have 
been  many  who  felt  that  this  feature  was  over- 
done ;  that  the  dignity  of  the  vistas  was  disturbed 
by  the  multiplicity  and  variety  of  forms,  and 
that  what  had  set  out  to  be  gay  finished  by  being 
fidgety.  The  more  so  that  there  was  little  relief  of 
greenery,  the  whole  scheme  being  too  exclusively 
architectural  without  the  assuaging  influence 
of  landscape  gardening.  If  in  lieu  of  so  much 
sculpture  trees  had  been  imported  into  the  scene, 
its  beauty  would  have  been  increased,  and  the 
discomfort  of  the  visitor,  imsheltered  from  the 
stm,  correspondingly  diminished.     The  value  of 


204  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

greenery  in  displays  of  this  sort  is  at  once  an 
esthetic  and  a  practical  consideration. 

The  sculpture  at  this  exposition  was  under 
the  supervision  of  Karl  Bitter,  and  his  equestrian 
"Standard  Bearers,"  surmounting  the  pylons  of 
the  Triumphal  Bridge,  were  the  most  arresting 
features  of  the  scheme.  Ten  years  earlier  he 
had  modelled  the  colossal  groups  that  stood  at 
the  base  of  the  dome  on  the  four  comers  of  the 
Administration  Building.  They  presented  a  fan- 
fare of  form  against  the  sky;  and  these  rearing 
horses  at  Buffalo,  with  their  riders  holding  aloft 
a  draped  flag,  had  the  same  fling  of  action,  only 
more  controlled  by  experience.  Instead  of  an 
explosion  of  limbs  and  movement,  there  was  a 
sustained  and  concentrated  energy,  infinitely 
more  impressive.  It  is  in  decorative  subjects  of 
this  sort,  which  permit  a  certain  heroic  exaggera- 
tion, that  Bitter  seems  at  his  best.  An  Austrian 
by  birth  and  training,  he  has  the  Teutonic 
exuberance,  touched  with  the  gaiety  of  the  French 
influence,  and  it  is  when  the  occasion  warrants 
the  exercise  of  both  qualities  that  he  finds  his 
best  chance.  When  he  is  deprived  of  an  excuse 
for  festivity  he  is  liable  to  abandon  himself  to 
an  excess  of  force,  as  in  the  "Atlantes"  of  the 
St.  Paul  Building  in  New  York,  which  are  uniting 
their  titanic  strength  with  contortion  of  limbs 


THE   DECORATIVE  MOTIVE        205 

and  muscles  to  support — one  little  balcony  !  Or  if, 
as  in  a  memorial  to  the  dead,  he  is  constrained  to 
moderation  and  set  toward  the  expression  of 
sentiment,  his  work  is  apt  to  be  characterised 
by  sentimentality  and  ineffectualness.  Yet,  in 
the  sitting  statue  of  Doctor  Pepper,  he  has  made 
a  sincere  attempt  to  render  in  straightforward 
fashion  the  personality  of  the  subject.  The 
figure  is  realistically  treated,  even  to  the  adoption 
of  an  awkward  pose,  which,  however,  fairly  cor- 
responds with  the  meditative  suggestion,  while 
the  expression  of  the  head  unquestionably  enlists 
our  interest.  Nevertheless,  it  is  in  such  a  group 
as  Bitter  furnished  for  the  Naval  Arch  at  the 
Dewey  celebration,  full  of  stirring  action  and 
heroic  suggestion,  that  he  is  to  be  seen  most 
characteristically. 

Isidore  Konti's  groups  at  the  Buffalo  Exposi- 
tion proved  him  to  be  a  decorative  artist  of 
imusual  versatility.  He  does  not  show  the  same 
varied  famiKarity  with  ornamental  forms  as 
Martiny,  but  his  technique  is  scarcely  less  facile 
and  sure  than  the  Parisian's,  while  touched  with 
much  of  the  Italian  na'iveU.  Gay  or  serious, 
according  to  the  subject,  his  inventiveness  of 
fancy  inclines  toward  that  slightly  idealised 
realism  which  characterises  the  work  of  many 
sculptors  of  the   modem   Neapolitan  school;  a 


2o6  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

realism  that  is  less  the  product  of  any  theory 
of  art,  than  of  the  natural  adaptabiUty  to 
impressions — a  quick  perception  coloiired  by 
temperament.  Thus  Konti  seems  to  me  at  his 
best  when  his  fancy  moves  most  simply.  A  first 
impression  of  his  group,  "  The  Age  of  Despotism, " 
was  very  satisfactory.  Bold  and  simple  in  design, 
it  represented  a  man  seated  in  a  chariot,  erect  and 
cold,  with  eyes  fixed  sternly  ahead,  and  at  his 
side  a  woman  (a  courtesan,  I  took  her  to  be) 
lashing  on  the  team  of  human  cattle,  while  women 
were  dragged  in  chains  behind.  Amid  so  much 
trite  symbolism  here  seemed  to  be  a  touch  of  very 
naiVe  and  forcible  realism.  But  closer  inspection 
discovered  that  the  realism  was  impaired  by 
artifice  and  artfulness ;  the  woman  in  the  chariot 
had  wings,  and  one  of  the  captives  carried  a  pair  of 
scales,  a  lapse  into  abstractions  that  for  myself, 
at  any  rate,  lessened  the  value  of  the  group.  On 
the  other  hand,  in  the  group  upon  the  Temple 
of  Music,  while  abstractions  were  introduced, 
they  had  no  other  meaning  than  a  decorative 
one.  The  youth  with  a  lyre  might  represent 
Apollo,  but  there  was  no  need  to  recognise  the 
fact;  he  was  simply  one  of  a  joyous  band  of 
figures,  animated  with  the  grace  of  gaiety,  of 
music  and  the  dance.  These  groups  were  as 
refined  in  composition  as  they  were  exuberant, 


THE   DECORATIVE  MOTIVE        207 

exhibiting  the  genuine  creativeness  of  an  artist 
who  has  an  instinct  for  decoration  and  a  lively 
delight  in  the  pure  expression  of  line  and  form, 
regulated  by  an  instinct  also  of  artistic  propriety. 
It  is  eminently  a  Latin  trait,  in  which  the  American 
is  as  deficient  as  the  Anglo-Saxon  or  Teuton. 

Our  tendency  is  to  desire  a  motive  in  decoration 
beyond  the  decorative  one.  So  we  make  our 
statuary  expressive  of  patriotism  or  what  not. 
Well  and  good ;  but  we  do  so  without  that  instinct 
of  propriety  which  should  be  as  careful  of  the 
setting  of  the  statue  as  of  the  statue  itself.  Thus 
in  city  sqiiares  and  public  parks  we  multiply  our 
memorials  without  adding,  as  effectively  as  might 
be,  to  the  beauty  of  their  environment.  It  was 
this  fact  which,  by  a  display  of  the  opposite,  the 
Buffalo  Exposition  was  designed  to  enforce.  In 
another  chapter  I  have  alluded  to  our  preference 
for  portrait-statues  with  their  prosaic  accom- 
paniment of  tailor-made  trimmings  to  statues 
which,  while  commemorating  the  individual, 
would  be  more  essentially  decorative.  But  it  is 
equally  to  be  desired  that  better  use  should  be 
made  of  such  statues  as  we  decide  to  encourage ; 
for  a  statue  set  down  promiscuously  in  a  public 
square  or  thoroughfare,  facing  in  no  particular 
direction,  forming  the  termination  of  no  vista  of 
sight,  supported  and  isolated  by  no  architectonic 


2o8  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

arrangement,  loses  the  greater  part  of  its  impress- 
iveness.  Indeed  it  is  very  generally  forgotten 
that  there  is  an  element  of  formality  in  a  statue, 
which  necessitates  some  formality  in  its  placing, 
and  that  the  accompaniment  of  wriggling  paths 
and  of  the  haphazard  sprinkling  of  trees,  such  as 
we  find  in  our  New  York  smaller  parks,  is  directly 
opposed  to  the  spirit  of  the  statue.  It  is  equally 
a  violation  of  propriety  and  a  waste  of  good 
material  to  set  a  fine  statue  on  the  line  of  a 
thoroughfare,  where  it  is  seldom  seen  from 
the  front,  but  continually  passed  by  unnoticed. 
Yet  these  and  similar  incongruities  are  only 
too  frequent. 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE 


XIII 

THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE 

**  I  ^HE  value  of  the  imaginative  quality  in  a 
work  of  sculpture  must  depend  chiefly 
upon  the  degree  to  which  it  is  governed  and 
prompted  by,  impregnated  with,  the  sctdpttiral 
feeling.  This  is,  of  course,  true  of  any  other  work 
of  art :  that  it  should  be  the  offspring  of  a  wedding 
of  the  thought  with  the  medium ;  a  union  in  which 
the  medium  is  not  compelled  into  alliance  with 
the  thought,  or  dallied  with  in  a  more  or  less 
honourable  concubinage,  but  fitly  mated  in  the 
liberty  of  mutual  dependence.  Yet  it  is  so 
habitual  with  us  to  clothe  our  thoughts  in  words, 
actually  to  think  in  words,  that  the  artist  finds 
it  difficult  to  shake  himself  free  of  the  verbal 
subjection  and  to  think  in  the  langtiage  of  his 
particular  mediimi.  Some  evade  the  difficulty  by 
not  burdening  themselves  with  thought;  others 
succumb  to  it  and  force  their  mediimi  and 
technique  to  a  literal  rendering  of  their  ideas, 
whether  shallow  ones  or  deeper;  while  a  few 
succeed  in  deriving  motive  from  the  medium,  or 

211 


212  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

in  so  moulding  their  thought  to  it,  that  both 
become  indissolubly  blended  and  mutually 
enforcing. 

Thus  in  those  signal  examples  of  Michelangelo 
upon  the  Medici  tombs,  we  may  call  them  "  Night " 
and  "Day,"  "Dawn"  and  "Twilight,"  for  con- 
venience of  reference,  but  it  is  because  the  concep- 
tions embodied  in  them  cannot  be  captured  into 
the  precision  of  words  that  they  have  so  profoimd 
a  significance.  Consciousness  grows  upon  us  first 
of  huge,  bony  structures  and  elastic  muscles ;  of 
torso  and  limbs  contorted;  more  developed  than 
the  normal;  in  attitudes  impossible  to  it,  or  well 
nigh  so.  We  derive  from  this  consciousness  an 
impression  of  struggle;  but  no  emblem  or  visible 
cause  for  it  is  introduced ;  only  it  is  borne  in  upon 
us  by  the  forms  themselves.  With  this  clue  to 
understanding  we  note  the  more  than  himian 
strength,  the  superb  sensuousness,  the  eternal 
fixity  of  these  supple  figures  and,  again,  their  dis- 
tortion, and  the  struggle  which  they  body  forth  is 
realised  as  one  of  spirit,  a  conflict  of  soul.  But  to 
have  discovered  this  is  not  to  have  captured  the 
conception.  It  still  eludes  all  exact  compre- 
hension; vague,  limitless,  the  lapping  up  upon  our 
shore  of  sense  of  an  ocean  that  stretches  to 
immensity. 

This  is  to  cite  the  example  of  a  genius,  beside 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  213 

whom  the  wits  of  most  other  men  seem  petty ;  yet 
stirely  it  contains  the  principle  upon  which  all 
truly  imaginative  work  must  be  based.  It  is  thus 
that  Rodin  bases  his ;  bodying  forth  in  structure, 
modelling  and  expression  of  movement  his  imagin- 
ings, just  so  far  as  they  are  to  be  made  palpable  to 
sight,  but  with  a  residuimi  always  of  what  the 
mind  alone  can  conceive  or  approximate  to. 

In  every  work  of  art  there  should  be  present 
the  imagination  of  the  artist,  arousing  our  own 
imagination,  directing  it  and  then  leaving  it  to 
its  own  unhampered  speculation.  This  quality  is 
not  to  be  confined  to  the  so-called  "ideal "  subject, 
it  must  appear  in  every  bust  or  statue  to  make  it 
vital.  For  while  it  is  given  to  but  few  men  to 
have  creative  imagination,  we  have  a  right  to 
expect  in  the  artist  that  degree  of  imagination 
which  can  penetrate  beyond  the  outer  integtiment 
of  his  subject,  and  find  inside  the  tailor-made  or 
millinery  outworks  the  man  or  woman,  the  revela- 
tion in  the  flesh,  however  infinitesimally  fractional, 
whether  divine  or  devilish,  of  infinity. 

How  many  American  sculptors  have  infused 
their  work  in  portraiture  with  this  vital  quality 
has  been  reviewed  elsewhere.  But  the  number 
is  not  complete  without  mention,  at  least,  of 
W.  R.  O'Donovan,  Samuel  Mtirray,  Charles 
Calverly,  Henry  H.  Kitson  and  his  wife,  AHce 


214  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

Ruggles  Kitson,  R.  E.  Brooks,  A.  A.  Weinman 

and  Birtley  Canfield.  The  last  named's  treatment 
of  the  child  in  portraiture  is  full  of  tender 
imagination. 

And  elsewhere  I  have  treated  of  some  of  our 
sculptors  whose  decorative  works  have  exhibited 
imagination;  the  sweet  and  gaysome  kind  of  it 
that  plays  like  sunlight  upon  water ;  or,  if  occasion 
demands  it,  the  kind  of  deeper,  serious  import. 
But  there  is  a  kind  of  decorative  sculpture  for 
which  we  can  have  little  patience:  the  nude  or 
draped  inanities  that  spread  themselves  over 
space,  exploitations  of  brainless  facility;  or,  again, 
the  figure  which  would  be  meaningless  except  for 
the  added  sjmibols,  and  which  we  only  recognise 
as  a  model,  posturing  with  something  borrowed  or 
stolen  from  the  Old  World  property-room. 

Yet  one  of  the  shibboleths  glibly  passed  aroimd 
the  studio  is  "ideal  sculpture,"  and  it  is  largely 
applied  to  just  such  sculpture  as  this;  to  works 
which  are  barren  of  ideas,  or  in  which  the  subject 
of  the  statue  is  declared  only  through  some  time- 
worn  symbol.  Not  that  the  introduction  of  a 
symbol  is  of  itself  objectionable,  though  it  is  a 
fact  that  the  works  of  finest  imagination,  as 
Saint-Gaudens's  "Grief,"  to  quote  a  modern 
example,  are  free  of  such  aids  to  suggestion. 
But  I  am  thinking  of  that  vast  majority  of  statues 


BUST    OF    A   CHILD 
By  Birtle/  Cauiield 


THE    STONE   AGE 
Ky  Jolin  J.    JJoyle 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  215 

in  which  the  figure  would  convey  no  hint  to  our 
imagination  if  it  were  not  for  the  symbol 
introduced.  And  how  far,  I  wonder,  does  the 
symbol  succeed  in  leading  us?  We  are  apt  to 
find  it  either  trite  or,  as  in  the  case  of  some 
of  the  mystically  symbolic  work  of  modem 
times,  abstruse.  With  religious  symbolism  it 
is  different.  In  old  days,  at  least,  the  artist 
and  the  public  had  a  common  starting-ground 
of  knowledge,  and  the  symbol  awoke  a  clear 
impression,  invested  by  religious  habit  with  a 
weighty  import. 

But  what  of  the  frequent  statues,  representing 
"Law,"  "Truth,"  "Justice"  and  the  Hke  by  a 
draped  model,  alternately  holding  a  tablet, 
serpent,  mirror,  scale  and  swords,  or  what  not; 
or  that  countless  family  of  undraped  statues, 
clever  studies  merely  of  anatomy  and  academic 
composition  ?  Their  only  suggestion  to  the  culti- 
vated imagination  is  one  of  weariness,  yet  they 
pass  in  the  studios  for  "ideal."  Let  us  clear  our 
minds  of  cant  and  see  these  things  for  what  they 
really  are — more  or  less  skilful  imitations  of  the 
model,  but  of  creative  imagination,  of  the  faculty 
to  give  expression  to  an  idea,  possessing  nothing. 

On  the  other  hand,  some  sculptors,  in  their 
avoidance  of  the  trite,  run  to  the  opposite  extreme 
of  the  abstruse — to  that  occult  and  mystic  symbol- 


2i6  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

ism,  which  has  been  sporadic  for  half  a  century  in 
Europe  and  has  found  at  least  two  exponents  in 
this  country. 

Here  again,  if  the  artist  makes  the  figure  the 
main  source  of  expression,  establishing  a  chord 
of  communication  between  his  own  imagination 
and  ours,  and  uses  the  symbolic  object  solely  as 
an  accessory,  the  latter  may  possibly  help  our 
act  of  appreciation,  or,  at  least,  will  not  hinder  it. 
But,  when  it  usurps  the  chief  function  in  the 
composition  and  we  find  in  the  figure  no  clue  to 
any  line  of  imagination,  having  to  turn  to  the 
symbol  for  assistance,  it  is  then  that  our  distress 
begins.  We  may  or  may  not  recognise  the  object, 
and,  if  we  do,  may  be  baffled  in  our  attempt  to 
discover  its  allusion  in  the  present  case ;  haunted 
meanwhile  by  a  disagreeable  doubt  as  to  whether 
it  was  really  intended  to  be  allusive  or  only 
introduced  for  decorative  effect.  It  is  not  by 
such  little  stepping-stones  to  understanding, 
slippery  and  insecure,  that  the  truly  creative 
imagination  proceeds.  It  takes  its  leap  into  the 
air,  clear  of  obstructions,  relying  upon  its  own 
power  of  flight.  For,  even  if  we  comprehend  the 
meaning  of  the  symbol  and  its  allusion,  how  far,  I 
wonder,  does  it  carry  us?  When  from  the 
mysteries  of  Egypt,  for  example,  the  modem 
artist  borrows  a  symbol  to  garnish  his  modem 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  217 

thought,  I  wonder  if  we  are  much  impressed  ?  He 
uses,  we  will  say,  the  device  of  the  winged  globe. 
We  know  that  it  once  stood  to  people  as  a  sign  of 
immortality ;  we  recognise  that  much,  but  does  it 
touch  our  feeling — will  it  increase  our  belief  in 
immortality  or  promise  anything  to  our  yearning 
after  it?  The  statue  itself  must  do  that,  and  if 
it  does,  the  symbol  is  likely  to  be  felt  intrusive. 

I  do  not  forget  that  Sargent  in  his  Boston 
decoration  has  made  noble  use  of  symbolism. 
Yet  I  feel  strongly  that  the  earlier  part  of  the 
work  which  involved  Egyptian,  Assyrian  and 
Judaic  symbolism  is  inferior  to  the  subsequent 
work,  which  is  impregnated  with  the  Byzantine. 
For  in  the  latter  the  artist  has  identified  himself 
so  completely  with  the  medieval  mind,  that  he  is 
thinking  in  it,  while  working  in  the  modem 
technique;  consequently  his  work  is  veritably  a 
reincarnation  of  the  old  thought.  Compared  with 
this  his  earlier  use  of  symbolism  appears  only 
scholarly  and  ingenious.  So,  one  may  infer,  it  is 
not  the  use  of  symbolism  that  is  alien  to  the 
modem  mind,  but  that  use  of  it  which  borrows 
from  the  past  and  does  not  reproduce  the  ancient 
spirit  or  incorporate  the  old  with  modem  thought. 

In  his  "  Foimtain  of  Man"  at  the  Pan-American 
Exposition,  Charles  Grafly  combined  a  cryptic 
motive   with   what   was   otherwise   simply   and 


21 8  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

intelligibly  sculptiiresque.  The  crowning  and 
most  prominent  featiire  of  the  composition,  to 
which  the  remainder  served  as  an  elaborate  base, 
was  a  draped  mass,  which  on  nearer  view  proved 
to  be  two  figures  back  to  back,  their  heads 
covered  with  perforated  casques,  joined  together 
over  the  top  by  what  had  the  appearance  of  a 
handle.  The  faces  were  visible,  but  from  the  rim 
of  the  casques  descended  curtains  of  drapery, 
enshrouding  the  figures,  but  leaving  exposed  the 
hands,  which  grasped  short  cylinders.  There 
can  be  no  doubt  of  the  general  suggestion  of  the 
symbolism,  the  twofold  nature  of  man,  the 
mystery  of  it;  but  I  must  confess  that  I  am 
baffled  by  the  headgear  and  the  cylinders.  Yet 
the  mass  was  impressive  as  a  finial  to  the  f  oimtain, 
having  something  of  the  character  of  a  low 
obelisk.  Indeed,  for  decorative  piirposes  it  might 
almost  as  well  have  been  a  shaft,  the  special 
aptitude  of  the  htiman  form  for  the  expression  of 
ornamental  design  having  been  obliterated  by  the 
drapery.  Not  so,  however,  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  composition.  The  pedestal  on  which  the 
figure  rested  was  surrovinded  by  nude  forms  of 
youths  and  maidens  intended  to  represent  the 
seasons,  while  the  platform  on  which  they  rested 
was  supported  by  crouching  male  and  female 
forms,  personifying,   I  believe,   the  virtues  and 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  219 

vices.  Yet  with  all  Grafly's  inclination  toward 
symbolism,  there  is  very  little  expressional  sug- 
gestion in  his  treatment  of  the  nude.  He  becomes 
preoccupied  with  the  model  and  his  imagination 
seems  to  leave  him.  However,  in  one  statue  at 
least,  "The  Vulture  of  War,"  he  has  shown  what 
he  can  accomplish,  when  he  permits  his  imagination 
to  control.  Here  the  nude  is  made  a  vehicle  of 
emotional  force:  a  male  figure  stooping  forward, 
as  if  he  were  on  some  lofty  crag  and  about  to 
hurl  himself  to  earth;  his  face  treacherous  and 
cruel ;  the  limbs  constricted  like  a  beast  of  prey's. 
There  is  a  largeness  of  design  in  this  figure  as  well 
as  expression ;  something  infinitely  finer  than  mere 
close  studies  of  anatomy,  accompanied  with 
accessories  of  abstruse  suggestion ;  a  real  incentive 
to  one's  imagination  which  is  lacking,  if  I  mistake 
not,  in  such  compositions  as  "Sjnnbol  of  Life," 
"In  Much  Wisdom"  and  "From  Generation  to 
Generation."  On  the  other  hand,  in  his  busts 
Grafly , ;  exhibits  a  directness  of  insight  into 
character  and  a  vigorous,  very  personal  technique 
that  make  them  most  distinguished. 

Nor  does  the  symbolism  of  F.  E.  Elwell,  as 
shown  for  example,  in  his  "Goddess  of  Fire,"  stir 
more  in  me  than  an  interested  curiosity.  Why 
should  he  have  drawn  the  type  of  his  figtire  and 
its  accessories  from  the  art  of  ancient  Egypt? 


220  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

Had  he  the  intention  of  fashioning  something 
beautiftil,  or  that  should  pique  the  appetite  for 
surprise?  Was  his  motive  to  allure  or  tantalise 
our  imagination?  For  my  own  part,  I  admit 
the  fascination  of  this  spritish  figure,  so  queerly 
bedizened,  but  am  not  conscious  of  any  appeal  to 
the  imagination.  On  the  other  hand,  when  his 
work  is  not  abstruse  it  is  apt  to  be  too  obvious. 
The  "Orchid  Dancer"  is  clearly  posing  for  effect, 
looking  for  applause,  and,  I  should  judge  from  the 
expression  of  her  face,  quite  unable  to  under- 
stand why  any  one  could  withhold  it.  However, 
while  the  movement  of  the  figure  lacks  expression, 
there  is  a  very  pleasing  fancif ulness  in  the  treat- 
ment of  the  drapery,  curling  across  the  body 
and  upward  from  the  feet  in  petal-Uke  volutes. 
I  think  I  do  not  fail  to  appreciate  the  sentiment 
which  inspired  this  statue,  and,  if  I  speak  of  it  as 
being  too  obvious,  it  is  because  it  seems  to  me 
that  the  sentiment  stands  out  clear  of  the  sculp- 
tural feeling.  Thought  and  technique  are  not 
wedded  in  such  manner,  that  you  not  only 
cannot  feel  them  separately,  but  would  find  it 
impossible  to  distinguish  how  much  had  been 
inspired  by  the  one,  how  much  by  the  other. 

Elwell's  work  suggests  a  man  of  poetic  and 
intellectual  capacity  who  has  resorted  to  sculpture 
to  express  his  ideas,  and  this  is  a  different  thing 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  221 

from  the  sculptural  instinct,  influenced  by  intellect 
and  poetry.  Accompanying  this  lack  of  a  pre- 
dominant feeling  for  form  is  a  lack  of  mastery 
of  it,  which  becomes  apparent  when  he  confronts 
his  model.  The  latter  does  not  act  as  stimulus 
to  sculptural  motive,  but  becomes  something 
to  be  reproduced,  and  his  invention  is  absorbed  in 
the  details  which  shall  convey  a  suggestion  of  the 
intellectual  and  poetic  motive.  One  may  even 
feel  that  this  intellectual  or  poetic  motive  becomes 
an  obsession,  which  interferes  with  his  receiving 
sculptural  stimulus  from  the  model.  For  among 
his  later  works  are  two  in  which  evidently  the 
same  model  has  been  used;  but  in  one  case  he 
has  been  filled  with  an  idea,  and  the  use  he  has 
made  of  the  model  is  tame,  whereas  in  the  other 
case  it  would  appear  to  have  been  the  model 
herself  which  engaged  his  imagination.  He  has 
made  a  close  study  of  her  head  and  bust,  pro- 
ducing something  in  which  the  nobility  of  form 
and  flesh  are  very  apparent,  which,  in  fact,  has 
very  strongly  the  sculpturesque  feeling.  He 
calls  the  finished  work  "Mary  Magdalen,"  but 
this,  one  feels  sure,  was  a  convenient  afterthought, 
and  that  the  original  intention,  as  I  have  said, 
was  simply  a  study  of  form  and  flesh;  and  his 
temporary  escape  from  the  prepossession  of  an 
idea  has  given  free  course  to  the  sculptural  pur- 


2S3  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

pose.  Two  earlier  works,  regarded  as  being  his 
most  important  productions,  were  the  Dickens 
Memorial  and  a  statue  of  General  Hancock 
at  Gettysburg. 

These  two,  Grafly  and  Elwell,  are  the  only 
American  sculptors  within  my  knowledge  who 
have  been  drawn  toward  symbolic  mysticism; 
for  the  mysticism  that  appears  in  Barnard's 
work,  and  must  have  been  present  in  the  colossal 
"Spirit"  by  John  Donoghue,  a  work  known  to 
me  only  by  report,  is  of  a  grander,  deeper  charac- 
ter, growing  out  of  and  penetrating  the  form 
itself.  This  statue  of  Donoghue's,  a  seated, 
winged  figure  thirty  feet  high,  represented  the 
Spirit,  the  "Thou"  of  Milton's  apostrophe,  who 

"from  the  first 
Wast  present,  and,  with  mighty  wings  outspread, 
Dove-Uke,  satst  brooding  on  the  vast  abyss, 
And  madst  it  pregnant." 

Described  as  a  work  of  great  impressiveness,  with 
suggestion  of  sublimity,  benignity  and  mysterious 
power,  it  was  executed  in  the  artist's  studio  on 
the  Roman  Campagna  and  sent  to  this  coimtry 
for  exhibition  at  the  Chicago  World's  Fair. 
But  for  some  reason  it  never  reached  its  desti- 
nation, and  was  allowed  to  crumble  away  in  the 
warehouse  of  a  Brooklyn  wharf.     Other  works 


THE   IDEAL  MOTIVE  223 

of  his  also— "Sophocles,"  "Diana,"  "Venus"— 
for  lack  of  appreciation  He  in  storage. 

Working  fitfully  and  with  painful  hindrances 
from  insufficient  facility  in  the  handling  of  his 
medium,  Theodore  Bauer  has  produced  some 
works  full  of  imagination.  Nature  gave  him  the 
gifts  of  music  and  of  dreaming ;  and,  nursing  these, 
he  slipped  on  into  middle  life,  without  ceasing  to 
be  a  child.  The  grit  of  manhood,  the  practicality 
of  the  world  and  the  need  of  responding  to  it  in 
kind,  are  outside  his  comprehension.  He  lives 
within  himself  in  a  world  of  his  own:  a  world  of 
rosy  lights  and  purple  shadows;  soft,  ^Eolian 
breezes,  whose  wailing  arouses  a  rapture  of  mild 
despair;  distant  mountains,  whose  inaccessible 
snows  prompt  sweet  imaginings  of  piuity  and 
high  endeavour,  while  he  meditates  in  his  valley 
of  unlaborious  delight  and  delicious,  pleasurable 
pain.  A  world  of  reverie,  darkened,  however, 
at  times  by  storm-clouds  and  disturbed  by  the 
deep  moan  of  thimder  along  the  distant  heights. 

For  in  Bauer's  work  delicate  fancy  alternates 
with  sadness,  as  one  may  see  in  his  two  statues 
in  the  Library  of  Congress.  "Religion"  is 
represented  as  a  young  girl  peering  into  the  far 
beyond  with  wistful,  visionary  gaze  and  holding 
before  her  a  poppy  flower  with  leaves  and  seed- 
pod.     In  her  grasp  is  the  pride  of  life  and  the 


224  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

narcotic  with  which  the  world  lulls  its  pain;  but 
she  looks  beyond  them  to  the  ideal  and  to  the 
balm  of  spiritual  ecstasy.  In  the  "Beethoven," 
however,  is  expressed  the  world-wearied  yearning 
of  the  artistic  soul.  The  well-known  face,  rugged 
and  graven  with  the  lines  of  time  and  siiffering, 
is  slightly  bowed,  and  the  right  hand  is  held  to  the 
ear  as  it  listens  intently  for  the  far-off  strain  of 
inspiration,  while  the  other  hand  is  poised  as  if 
above  a  keyboard,  the  fingers  searching  to  express 
the  music  in  his  brain.  A  heavy  cloak  with  high- 
standing  collar  gives  breadth  and  picturesqueness 
to  the  figure.  It  is,  indeed,  too  picturesque,  one 
may  feel — with  too  expanded  a  composition  and 
too  much  play  of  movement,  to  satisfy  its 
architectonic  ftmction  of  relieving  by  a  vertical 
line  the  horizontal  of  the  balustrade.  But,  how-^ 
ever  that  may  be,  as  the  portrait  of  a  great 
musician  and  an  idealisation  of  his  art,  it  is  a 
statue  full  of  suggestion — a  work  of  imagination, 
elevated,  tender,  deep  and  true. 

Bauer  had  long  pondered  a  series  of  four  groups, 
representing  "The  Tragedy  of  the  Sphinx"; 
her  awakening  to  love,  her  passion,  disillusion 
and  death;  and  in  one  of  the  buildings  of  the 
Chicago  World's  Fair,  amid  the  chaos  of 
the  construction  period  and  in  a  winter  of  unusual 
severity,  a  winter  of  veritable  discontent  to  him. 


THE   IDEAL  MOTIVE  225 

he  worked  upon  the  first  of  these,  "The  Sphinx 
and  the  Cupid."  During  the  exposition  months 
it  stood  in  a  retreat  of  foHage  near  the  Art  Palace 
unnoticed.  Yet,  even  unfinished  as  it  was,  it 
exerted  an  extraordinary  fascination.  The  little 
Love  God  was  whispering  in  the  creature's  ear, 
and  as  the  honey  of  his  words  sweetly  melted 
her  slow  imagination,  a  smile  of  aroused  appetite 
began  to  play  upon  her  lips,  hunger  shone  in  her 
eye;  a  passion  hot  and  cold,  eager  with  desire, 
callous  to  everything  but  its  own  satisfaction; 
a  cruelty  that  would  not  be  appeased  imtil  it 
had  consumed  itself. 

I  have  said  that  Bauer  is  painfully  hindered 
by  a  lack  of  facility  in  the  handling  of  his  mediimi ; 
but  I  doubt  if  it  is  from  lack  of  skill  in  technique, 
as  is  sometimes  said.  He  is,  in  fact,  a  very  rapid 
and  sure  worker  up  to  a  certain  point,  that  of 
bodying  forth  his  conception  in  its  broad,  general 
aspect ;  and  the  subsequent  embarrassment  is  due 
to  the  subtlety  of  the  expression  for  which  he  is 
striving ;  a  kind  of  subtlety,  often  alien,  I  expect, 
to  the  expressional  capacity  of  his  mediiun.  For 
Bauer  has  long  wished  that  fate  had  made  him 
a  painter  instead  of  a  sculptor,  and  there  is  no 
doubt  that  the  quality  of  his  imagination  is  more 
suited  to  the  mediimi  of  colour. 

In  contrast  with  the  mysticism  and  subtlety 


226  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

of  imagination,  more  or  less  displayed  in  the 
work  we  have  been  considering,  is  that  form  of 
imagination  which  turns  to  earth  and  to  the  facts 
of  things  for  its  inspiration.  How  it  has  operated 
in  the  work  of  some  of  our  sculptors  has  been 
noticed  elsewhere,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  the 
Indian  subject  has  made  frequent  appeal  to  their 
imagination.  A  further  example  of  the  latter  is 
"The  Medicine  Man,"  by  C.  E.  Dallin,  which  was 
a  prominent  feature  on  the  grounds  of  the  Paris 
Exposition.  Mounted  on  a  stringy  pony,  the 
man  himself  lean  and  gaunt,  the  group  coimted 
very  little  as  a  mass,  yet  compelled  attention  by 
the  keenness  of  the  characterisation.  Amid  the 
extreme  modemness  of  the  scene  and  its  variety 
of  impressions,  the  impassiveness  of  this  figure, 
survival  of  an  age  so  remote,  was  strangely 
moving;  a  proud,  stem  figure,  conscious  of  its 
dignity,  in  pitiful,  solemn  protest  against  the 
inexorable  march  of  destiny;  the  last  echo  of  an 
unrecorded  epic.  No  sculptor  has  succeeded 
better  in  combining  with  complete  naturalism 
the  poetry  of  the  Indian  subject.  Gutzon 
Borglum  in  his  statuettes  has  represented  with 
realism  and  vigour  its  actualities,  and  H.  A, 
Mac  Neil  has  reached  inward  into  the  thought 
of  the  Indian;  but  Dallin  has  given  us  the 
realism,  spirit  and  some  suggestion  of  the  Indian 


THE   IDEAL  MOTIVE  227 

environment,    such   as    Brush   did   in  his    early 
paintings. 

In  Philadelphia,  however,  is  an  Indian  group 
representing  "The  Stone  Age,"  which  involves 
some  further  suggestion.  A  woman  stands  grasp- 
ing a  hatchet  and  clutching  her  infant  to  her 
breast,  as  she  looks  into  the  distance  with  wary, 
resolute  courage,  while  a  little  child  crouches  up 
to  her  on  one  side,  and  on  the  other  a  bear's  cub 
lies  dead.  It  is  by  John  J.  Boyle,  one  of  his  few 
ideal  subjects,  a  work  of  powerful  imagination. 
This  sculptor  has  essayed  decorative  subjects, 
but  with  less  success.  His  control  of  composition 
does  not  seem  to  extend  beyond  the  treatment 
of  a  single  figure  or  of  a  group  in  which  one  is 
predominant;  and  his  strong  point  is  the  expres- 
sion of  character  or  sentiment.  Thus  his  seated 
statue  of  Benjamin  Franklin  is  one  of  the  most 
interesting  examples  of  portrait-sculpture  in  the 
country.  It  possesses  a  considerable  share  of 
monumental  dignity  and  a  very  remarkable 
intimacy  of  feeling.  The  pose  is  informal,  the 
expression  of  the  head  and  body  quite  natural, 
yet  the  conception  has  no  trace  of  obviousness, 
much  less  of  commonplace.  It  is  invested  with 
just  sufficient  idealisation  to  preserve  the  impres- 
sion of  a  statue;  that  it  is  not  the  counterfeit 
presentiment  of  a  man,  but  a  memorial  of  his 


228  AMERICAN  MASTERS 

qualities  and  what  they  imply  to  his  admirers. 
And  the  qualities  are  expressed  with  admirable 
decision;  the  intellectual  dignity  of  the  head 
well  sustained  by  the  erect  torso  and  the  broad, 
firm  carriage  of  the  arms;  the  easy  negligence  of 
the  costume  according  so  well  with  the  benevo- 
lence and  genial  humanity  of  the  face.  Indeed, 
in  this  portrait-statue  Boyle  reveals  a  penetrating 
and  sympathetic  insight  and  a  choice  of  treatment 
that  are  the  products  of  an  active  imagination; 
and  when  in  a  subject  like  the  "Stone  Age"  his 
imagination  can  work  as  it  lists,  it  reaches  to  that 
point  where  the  particular  becomes  merged  in 
the  universal  suggestion. 

For  in  this  group  we  pass  from  interest  in  the 
episode  to  a  realisation  of  the  rude  grandeur  of 
the  primitive  nature,  the  physical  grandeur  of  un- 
trammelled development  and  the  natural  instinct 
of  the  mother  animal.  I  recall  another  group  of 
his:  a  modem  peasant  woman  with  her  baby 
folded  in  sleep  upon  her  broad  bosom  and  another 
child  nestling  at  her  feet.  Here,  too,  the  mother 
is  vigorous  and  ample,  but  roimded  and  softened 
by  more  genial  environment.  Yet  in  the  generous- 
ness  of  her  form  as  in  the  strenuousness  of  the 
other's,  we  feel  the  same  suggestion  of  the  earth- 
mother,  the  mother  in  closest  affinity  with  nature. 
Only,  as  nature  progresses  from  rigour  to  amenity. 


\ 

\ 


THE  IDEAL  MOTIVE  229 

the  primal  instinct  of  preservation  of  her  young 
has  passed  into  the  all-pervading  tenderness  of 
maternal  solicitude.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  typical 
conception  of  motherhood,  as  compared  with  the 
merely  individual  representation  that  appears  in 
each  of  these  groups. 

The  conception,  moreover,  is  coloured  with 
modem  thought,  not  a  spiritualised  abstraction, 
like  Raphael's,  but  enriched  with  the  passion  and 
fecimdity  of  earth.  Raphael  may  have  sought 
his  models  among  the  girl-mothers  of  Trastevere 
or  the  Campagna ;  but  his  idea  of  motherhood  he 
brought  down  from  the  region  of  artistic  and 
intellectual  speculation.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
tendency  of  the  modem  artist  is  to  set  back  his 
model  in  her  actual  environment  and  to  discover 
her  affinity  thereto.  Or,  if  his  model  be  nature, 
he  no  longer  attempts  to  spiritualise  it  by  arrange- 
ment of  lines  and  forms  that  accord  with  his 
abstract  theories  of  beauty,  or  by  investing  it 
with  atmosphere  and  simlight,  drawn  from  his 
own  imagination.  Nor  is  he  satisfied  with  the 
objective  nature-study  of  the  Dutchmen  of  the 
sixteenth  century;  but,  observing  nature  no  less 
closely  than  they,  he  peers  further  into  it  in  the 
search  for  a  soul  and  heart  within  her  that  shall 
correspond  to  the  heart  and  soul  within  himself. 

The  main  current  of  the  poetic  imagination  in 


230  AMERICAN   MASTERS 

modem  art  is  to  find  the  soul  in  the  fact  and  it  is 
a  phase  of  the  general  tendency  of  modem 
thought.  Our  gaze  is  earthward;  to  the  beauty, 
poetry  and  desirable  goodness  that  are  in  natiire 
and  the  natural  life,  and  to  the  spiritual  suggestion 
in  the  actual. 

There  are  minor  currents,  too,  little  streams  of 
rebellion  that  flow  contrary  to  the  general 
direction.  The  superesthetic  and  the  super- 
intellectual,  equally  are  protests  against  the  trend 
toward  naturalism.  The  one  responds  to  what 
there  is  in  us  of  world-weariness,  of  a  jaded 
epicureanism  that  needs  the  subtlest  stimulants 
to  its  imagination ;  the  other  would  emphasise  the 
quality  by  which,  it  assumes,  we  are  differentiated 
from,  and  superior  to,  the  natural  world.  Disre- 
garding the  Universal  Intellect  which  regulates 
the  law  of  natural  growth  and  of  natural  habits, 
it  would  force  the  little  \mit  of  intellect  into 
premature  development,  into  lifelong  estrange- 
ment from  the  wholesomeness  of  nature.  For  facts 
it  would  substitute  names;  words,  words  and 
continually  words,  until  they  take  the  place  of 
knowledge,  of  ideas  and  of  all  religious,  moral 
and  esthetic  consciousness. 

In  American  art  there  is  scarcely  any  trace  of 
the  superesthetic;  but  more  than  a  little  of  the 
superintellectual,  a  phase  and  product    of    our 


THE   IDEAL  MOTIVE  231 

infatuation  for  words,  which  binds  the  imagina- 
tion with  wrappings  of  borrowed  thought  and 
checks  the  free  flight  of  original  ideas.  For  the 
end  of  art  is  not  to  teach,  but  to  make  us  feel ;  to 
refine  and  elevate  the  operation  of  the  senses, 
helping  us  through  visible,  tangible  and  audible 
beauty  to  catch  at  something  of  the  mysterious 
infinitude  of  beauty.  Even  as  man's  intellect 
reaches  ever  wider  and  further  until  knowledge  is 
merged  in  speculation;  so  by  the  promptings  of 
the  senses  we  reach  from  appreciation  of  material 
things  to  that  detachment  of  feeling  which  exists 
in  the  ideal. 


INDEX 


Adams,  Herbert,  99-115,  184, 
193 

Ball,  Thomas,  vi,  56 
Barnard,  Greorge  Grey,  21-36 
Bamhom,  Clement  J.,  193,  et 

seq. 
Bartholoni6,  Albert,  6,  7 
Bartlett,  Paul  W.,  89-95,  184 
Barye,  Antoine  Louis,  158 
Bauer,  Theodore,  223,  et  seq. 
Bissell,  George  E.,  184 
Bitter,  Karl,  204,  205 
Borglum,    Gutzon,    153,   154, 

226 
Borglum,     Solon      Hannibal, 

149-162 
Boston  Public  Library,  81,  83 
Boyle,  John  J.,    184,   227,  et 

seq. 
Brenner,   Victor   David,    165- 

171 
Brooks,  Richard  E.,  214 
Brown,  Henry  Kirke,  vi,  43, 

203 
Bush-Brown,  H.  K.,  202,  203 

Calverly,  Charles,  213 
Canfield,  Birtley,  214 
Canova,  v,  56 

Carpeaux,  Jean  Baptiste,  134 
Casey,  Edward  Pearce,  188 
Cavelier,  Jules  Pierre,  28 
CentenniaJ  Exhibition,  v,  viii, 

136 
Chicago  World's  Fair,  61,  65, 

75,  84,  197,  203, 222, 224 
Coloring  Sculp txire,  102,  et  seq. 
Crawford,  Thomas,  vi 


Dallin,  Cyrus  E.,  184,  226 
Donoghue,  John,  222 
Dubois,  Paul,  6,  7, 15 

Elwell,  F.  Edwin,  219,  et 
seq. 

Falguiere,  Jean  Alexandre 

Joseph, 75, 100,  134 
Flanagan,  John, 185 
Fr6miet,  Emmanuel,  90,  157 
French,  Daniel  Chester,  55-70, 

193 

Grafly,  Charles,  217,  et  seq., 

222 
Greenough,  Horatio,  4 

Harvey,  Eli,  202 

JouFFROY,  Francois,  134 

Kemeys,  Edward,  197 
Kitson,  Alice  Ruggles,  213 
Kitson,  Henry  H.,  213 
Konti,  Isidore,  205,  et  seq. 

Library  of  Congress,  74,  83, 
90,  113,  128,  142,  176,  et 
seq.,  223 

Linder,  Henry,  195 

Macmonnies,  Frederick,  73- 

85 
MacNeil,  H.  A.,  226 
Martiny,  Philip,   177,  et  seq., 

179, 191, 205 
McKim,  Charles  F.,  65,  66,  189 
Merci6,  Marius  Jean  Antonin, 

100, 134 


^33 


234 


INDEX 


Metropolitan  Museum  of  Fine      Rebisso,  Louis  T.,  155, 157 

Arts,  New  York,  81,  89,  169      Rhind,  J.  Massey,  loi,  at  seq. 
Michelangelo,  21,  26,  27,  102,      Rinehart,  William  Henry,  vi 


212 
Murray,  Samuel,  213 

National  Sculpture  Soci- 
ety, 40 

Niehaus,  Charles  Henry,  119- 
128, 184 

o'donovan,  w.  r.,  213 

Pan-American     Exposition, 

149, 203, 207, 217 
Paris   Exposition   of   1900,   6, 

77. 149 
Perry,  R.  Hinton,  185,  et  seq. 
Potter,    Edward   C,   66,    184, 

197 
Powers,  Hiram,  vi 
Pratt,  Bela  L.,  181,  et  seq. 
Proctor,    A.     Phimister,     197, 

198, 199 


Rodin,   Auguste,    8,   35,    102, 

139,   158,  213 
Roth,  Frederick  G.  R.,  199,  et 

seq. 
Roty,  Louis  Oscar,  168 
Ruckstuhl,  F.  Wellington,  184 
Rude,  Franfois,  134 

Saint-Gaudens,  Augustus,  3, 
17,  21,  49,  74,  75,  157,  193, 
214 

Schwarzott,  M.  M.,  196 

SulUvan,  Louis  H.,  190 

Taft,  Lorado,  178 

Ward,  John  Quincy  Adams, 

39-52, 167 
Warner,  Olin  Levi,   109,   131" 

146 
Weinert,  Albert,  179 
Weinman,  Adolph  A.,  214 


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